


Green Valley

by HooahSergeant



Series: Tumbleweeds [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23532142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HooahSergeant/pseuds/HooahSergeant
Summary: They traveled across a desert, across an ocean, fighting everyday for their survival. Not everyone made it, but those that did are finally setting eyes on their safe haven. Not a tropical island paradise - an island off the coast of Alaska. There are no infected there, and that's enough to make it paradise. Trouble is, even paradise has its problems. What happens when you've been fighting for so long and there's nobody left to fight except yourself?
Relationships: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Series: Tumbleweeds [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/50674
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

Hello stranger, can you tell us where you’ve been?  
More importantly, how ever did you come to be here?  
Though a stranger you can rest here for awhile.  
But save your energy, your journey here is far from over.

\- Puscifer, “Green Valley”  
\---

Everyone else had gathered at the bow of the Skylark to watch as the small speck in the distance came into focus. Even the hardest of souls had gone with the group, wanting to be on deck as the speck became the island that’s become home in their eyes and hearts. 

Rachel could imagine how hard it must be for Luz. Physically dwarfed by Chevy and Alex, her persona seemed to loom so much larger than the both of them. The jaded mask she wore kept her safe and the armor of a warrior protected the soft, squishy bits but Rachel wondered if both would crack, just a little -- just enough -- at the sight of heaven.

Because that’s what it was to them now. No longer an island made up of very real things but a magical place, a fairytale land if she dared to make such a comparison even to herself. It was heaven in the forests and rivers and ocean that surrounded it, holding the fragile promise of homes and food. A place where they could rebuild themselves and nurse and heal their collective brokenness. Hell, maybe they could even heal the brokenness of an entire planet torn apart and eaten alive by the very creatures that once flourished there.

Quinn hadn’t said anything about not joining the others and part of Rachel wanted to feel bad about that. The selfish part of her won out however, because having a quiet moment with Quinn beat everything else. Instead of leading her to the bow she’d held her hand and walked in the opposite direction, continuing to the stern in silence. Even when Rachel had stopped, staring back the way they’d traveled over miles and miles of ocean, Quinn had lowered herself to the deck, kicking out her legs and holding her arms out. It was a silent invitation Rachel knew she’d be forever powerless to refuse.

Besides, she thought as she nestled back into Quinn’s embrace, their quiet moments were probably at an end.

“Things are going to change. Again,” she said with a wistful smile. Leaning her head back against Quinn’s shoulder she turned her face up and studied the strong lines of Quinn’s face.

“Remember when people used to say ‘Be the change you want to see in the world’?” Quinn smiled back, lopsidedly. “The world changes without any help from us. We’ll adapt.”

Rachel shook her head. “I think you could say that this is an occasion where humans were responsible for global change - and it wasn’t a good one.”

“Didn’t really work out well for us. But hey, let’s think positive. We’re alive and we may have just struck a blow for the survival of the species. The living remnants of the species, that is.” Quinn shrugged.

“Thinking positive. What a concept.” Rachel hummed, closed her eyes and took a deep breath of salt-flavored air. “It feels weird, leaving. I won’t miss the storms, but I feel like I just figured out how to live here. It’s comfortable, almost cozy in its own way.”

“Says the woman who dislocated her shoulder fighting off a hurricane.”

Rachel pinched the back of Quinn’s hand. “Stop that. You make it sound so much bigger than it was. Tell me again how big that fish was that you caught the other day?”

“I swear,” Quinn said with a small laugh. “It could have been JAWS’ mother.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Don’t try and tell me that you don’t lo - like it.”

They sat in silence again, for a while. And for a while Rachel was content to drift. She listened to the sounds around them: Quinn’s breathing and the ever present wind, the splash of the ocean, and the churning sound of the propellers. The urge to sing pressed in her throat and filled her chest, but she swallowed it down with some effort; she wasn’t quite there yet. Maybe someday soon she could sing again for the pure joy of it.

“What do you think will happen? To us -- all of us?” She asked, tilting her head when Quinn leaned in to rest against her shoulder. It caused an entirely different flutter in Rachel’s gut. The newfound closeness between them was exciting, but she didn’t dare do anything to spook Quinn away from it. There was a new Quinn slowly emerging, ever since Andrew’s departure from the ship. She broke Rachel’s heart, left it aching and in pieces but somehow held everything together at the same time. Every time Quinn smiled at her or touched her without hesitating, Rachel felt it in her bones. When she woke up and Quinn was the one who had taken over Big Spoon responsibilities her heart shattered. But it didn’t destroy her, it made her feel whole. Like maybe breaking had been the necessary next step and she should welcome it.

So she did.

But she definitely didn’t say anything to Quinn about it. Didn’t even tease her.

It was still enough.

For now.

Unconditional, Rachel thought and smiled as the old Katy Perry lyrics ran through her head.

“I think… I think this is the beginning. The real beginning of the rest of our forever.” Quinn squinted at nothing and shrugged. Her hands tightened around Rachel’s waist as she continued on. “It’s going to be hard and some days are going to suck, but we’ll know that this is better. It’s so much better than where we were and where we could be. We’re stronger now and we know what we can do. We’re dangerous in the best way. I think that as long as we remember our lessons out here we won’t get too cocky. We’ll stay humble and we’ll stay alive.”

“Not just surviving?” Rachel turned further so she could see all of Quinn’s face. She touched the tip of Quinn’s nose, grinning when Quinn scrunched her face adorably in response.

“At first,” Quinn said and clicked her teeth together in a mock bite at Rachel’s finger. “At first survival will be the game. But it will change and the next thing we know we’ll be living for the first time in years.”

“I’m excited,” Rachel confessed in a whisper. Afraid to say it too loud and have it snatched away. It was terrifying. Excitement, hope… anything light and good could be taken in an instant. She didn’t trust the sea breeze not to reach out and steal it away.

But Quinn’s eyes were as warm as her smile. “Me, too. I think we’re going to make it.”

“We will.” Rachel raised her chin in a fair imitation of her younger self, even tossing her hair over her shoulder in a self-assured manner. “I won’t let you quit.”

“I promise you that I won’t give up if you won’t,” Quinn dared back, a familiar challenge in her expression.

Maybe they were both ridiculous.

Rachel didn’t care.

She held up her pinky. “Promise.”

Quinn wrapped her pinky around Rachel’s, smirk deepening as she squeezed. “Promise.”

Only when Quinn let go did Rachel allow herself to laugh. She fell forward, drawn towards Quinn, and let her head rest in her new favorite place. Tucked just under Quinn’s chin, she laughed and felt Quinn’s laughter vibrating in her chest.

They were going to make it.

All of them.

They had to.

A promise was a promise.

\---

After the ship had been stopped and the anchor dropped, Rachel had put together a search party to make sure the island would be safe for them to inhabit. There could be settlers already, of the living kind. Or the dead. Nobody wanted any surprises.

Quinn retreated back to the room they’d converted over into weapons storage, leaving Rachel on the deck to talk some more. She had a crowd to calm, her first responsibility being to all of those eager and nervous faces. Quinn preferred being responsible for shooting things.

She pulled on a pair of fingerless leather gloves and picked up her new shotgun. It hadn’t been sawed off yet so the barrel seemed unnaturally long, but it would do the trick. And she did love her shotguns. Perfect aim was nice, but there was something to be said about point-in-the-general-direction and shoot. Next to her Luz was thumbing fresh rounds into her pistol magazine. They hadn’t spoken in awhile, not since the screaming match over her actions in the kitchen.

Luz had called her reckless. Stupid. A few other things in Spanish that didn’t translate fully. She got the gist though; after spending years around Santana she knew her Spanish curse-words.

“I had to do it, Luz,” she said over the sound of bullets sliding into place. “I know you get it.”

“It would have been better, maybe, if instead of rushing headlong into these heroics that you both do…” Luz sighed. “Can’t you just tell the girl you like her? Before one of you does something more stupid than the last. You’re not an idiot, Q, but you’re good at pretending to be one. Must be all that acting skill.”

“She started it. Being a badass and taking on zombies. Running into storms to save children. Going after CJ in the kitchen.” She shook her head. “It’s not the right – we need to – I don’t know what I’m doing, alright? I don’t know what this is.”

Luz snorted, slammed the magazine into place, and chambered the first round. “You should probably figure it out.”

“Thanks, buddy, I’ll get right on it.” Quinn smirked and raised an eyebrow. “How did I ever survive without you around to help?”

“I’m still trying to figure that one out.”

Her smirk grew into a grin. She racked the shotgun and balanced it in one hand with the muzzle pointing to the ceiling. “Serious conversations later. Right now, let’s go check out our new island.”

“Like you’re not used to things like private islands,” Luz said. “Take a vacation or two on one before? Or was that all a lie in the tabloids?”

“When most of the world has seen you naked – well, mostly naked – sometimes you go to an island and make peace with it.”

“Cheeky bitch.” Luz rolled her eyes. “Come on then, let’s go get your lady and check out this rock.”

\---

The small boat they used to cross over to the island made the rough ocean feel like a roller coaster. Rain pelted them, smacking against Quinn’s head much harder than the average raindrop should.

It also brought back unpleasant memories of their recent adventure on a much larger boat during a much larger storm.

She looked to her right and saw Rachel gripping the rope on the edge of the boat, knuckles white and jaw clenched. Luz smirked at her when she cast a quick glance to her left, as though she already knew what Quinn had planned.

Raising an eyebrow in challenge, she slid her hand over and tangled her fingers with Rachel’s cold, wet ones.

Luz’s smirk turned into a grin. Quinn shrugged and looked over at Rachel. “Hey,” she shouted over the whine of the engine and constant clap of the boat against the waves, “you okay?”

Rachel winced. “I hate boats. And the ocean. And storms.”

“Me, too.” She squeezed Rachel’s fingers. If we catch hypothermia, you’re more than welcome to be my warm up buddy again, she thought. “We’ll be on land soon.”

“That’s not really comforting,” Rachel yelled, narrowing her eyes.

The island loomed ahead of them, getting larger and larger as they approached. Majestic mountains stood up from the thick forests of the island. Its gray and white a stunning contrast to the dark greens and browns, a rich fog seeped up from the roots of the trees, soaking the island and crawling out towards the boat. Big rocks jutted out from the water almost like a barricade to keep people out, and sticking out from the shore a lone dock wobbled with no other boats or seaplanes near it.

Chevy, sitting at the back controlling the motor, wiped some water off his face and grinned. “Lookie there, folks, a welcome mat!”

Alex, right next to him, flung some water at him and then went back to hugging his rifle.

Quinn, more than used to their antics, smiled at Rachel to reassure her. “They’re professionals.”

“Oh, well now I feel better.”

The engine quieted and the frantic bouncing of the boat smoothed out as they coasted up beside the dock. Luz threw a noose over a cleat and stood up, shaking only a moment before she caught her balance and tied off the boat securely. “All ashore,” she said, and clambered up onto the dock, her pistol coming up immediately. Alex went up next, rifle swinging around to the ready.

Chevy grabbed Quinn’s shoulder before she could stand. “Soldiers first, Hollywood.”

He knelt down once his feet hit the old wood and held out a hand.

Quinn glared at him but let him help her up and then together they yanked Rachel almost right out of the boat.

“Why am I last?” She huffed and swatted at Chevy’s arm.

“Because even Quinn can pick you up,” he said.

“Hey, three stooges?” Luz snapped, glaring over her shoulder. “Can we save the idiocy for after we check out this ghost town?”

Quinn let the shotgun rest between her palms, filling them like it had been made to sit there. Truth be told she liked Chevy’s jokes before, during, and after tense moments. They helped her stay calm which in turn helped her to focus. The few times she’d seen Chevy frazzled, that was when she lost her focus. If Chevy stopped making jokes it meant they were in real trouble in a situation they couldn’t get out of.

He nudged her shoulder and she nodded up at him, watching Luz stalk forward, pistol leading the charge. Alex went after her, eyes to his sights. Chevy crouched and followed in a slow, smooth gait that was surprisingly graceful for a man his size.

Rachel, not liking being last in the slightest, shot Quinn a look and then jumped forward, her feet rolling heel to toe. The muscles in her forearms stood out keeping her trusty pistol level.

Swiping some water out of her eyes and shoving her drenched hair back in the same motion, Quinn followed in last place.

Thanks to Luz measured steps the pace they took kept them in a tight group. It eased some of the tension from Quinn’s shoulders. Safety in numbers. She felt like a part of a wolf pack on the hunt, a predator less likely to be preyed on.

She took a deep, frigid breath, tasting the salt air and water. It puffed out in a small plume of steam. Gritty sand shifted under her shoes as she stepped off of gray, worn wood. and the world stopped rocking from side to side. It took her a few steps to get used to the sensation. The others drifted from side to side, likely also dealing with the strange transition of sea to land.

The flat shore of the island, littered with rocks and the odd tree stump, gave way to underbrush, row after row of trees, and a small beaten path. She saw Luz stiffen, shoulders pulling upward, at the first step onto the trail. The group tightened into a staggered single-file, muzzles of various weapons swinging left and right to clear the tree-line hemming them in. Quinn sped up enough to be on Rachel’s heels.

Their feet crunched noisily, each sound jarring. Luz held up a fist and the whole line stopped, silencing the noise. Quinn leaned over when she heard Rachel gasp and wanted to rub her eyes to double check she was seeing clearly.

There was a little village, still standing though beaten down by weather and overrun with moss. She counted four cabins poking out from the trees. Two of them were two-story, with adorable wooden staircases leading up to the second floor. The other two looked like the kind of cabin she’d seen in paintings. All four of them sported chimneys, promising a cozy fire place she couldn’t wait to warm her hands in front of. Nearest to them was a lodge, massive and beautiful and less rundown than the cabins, but with moss growing on the roof.

Home. A real home. Her breath caught in her lungs and her mouth went numb.

“It’s real,” Rachel whispered.

“Alex,” Luz said, quietly. “Stay with me. Chevy, take Rachel and Quinn. We’ll clear right, you three clear the left. Make sure there’s no surprises, roger?”

“Got it, Mama,” Chevy said. “Quinn, you remember how to do this?”

She swallowed but squared her jaw and nodded when he looked back at her.

Chevy broke off, rifle ready. Rachel stayed right with him, like a pro, just next to his shoulder. They headed towards the nearest cabin. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Alex opening the door to the lodge, Luz darting inside.

“Q,” Chevy whispered and nodded at the door.

Her turn.

\---  
TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

Rachel sighed and used her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she scanned out over the rest of the village. From the porch of the rundown cabin she watched as people moved about and swarmed over other cabins and the lodge like ants, still hard at work to make Afognak function as more than a past hunting destination.

Like most of the world, without human maintenance nature had risen up to take back what had originally belonged to it, and Afognak now existed as a run-down and half-eaten-by-the-elements former hunting destination turned settlement.

The rasp of saws on wood and crack of hammers filled the air, punctuated by the occasional shout. No injuries yet but orders had to be yelled to be heard over the din of work.

After a week they were much better off than they had been. The lodge was the most functional building on the island and that meant they had a roof over their heads while they scrambled to pick up the pieces and create something of a civilization. They had decided to leave Luz and Kevin in charge of the lodge and the gaggle of orphans who would stay there with them, leaving the rest of them to remodel and fix the cabins if they didn’t want to live like the Brady Bunch.

She turned and smiled fondly at the old cabin she’d staked her claim on the first day. The wood was rough, biting at her hands when she ran her palm along the wall, but there was an odd sort of charm to the place. It didn’t remind her of anything she’d had Before and for once she appreciated that.

New beginnings.

“Hey, your majesty!”

With a roll of her eyes she whipped around, aiming a glare at Chevy where he stood on the other side of the broken porch railing. Well out of reach of her hands, of course. Smart man. “How many times have I asked you to stop calling me that?”

He shrugged his beefy shoulders and grinned up at her. “Don’t look at me Madam Mayor, I didn’t start it. You gotta cut that new nickname off at the source.”

She growled and put her hands on her hips. “I tried that. Luz laughed in my face.”

“Sucks to be Mayor.”

“I could still shoot you, you know.”

He raised his hands off his rifle like a hostage. “Oh no! Mercy, my Queen! Mercy!”

Nothing to throw at him either. She huffed and shook her head. “You’re all children.”

“Careful,” he said, pointing a finger at her. “You’ll add mother to the list. Madam Mayor, Evil Queen Mother? Yeah, that could work.”

“Did you need something or did you come over here just to annoy me?”

“We’re about ready for the ceremony. Where’s Q?”

She smiled again, unable to help herself at the thought of not just the ceremony, which felt delightfully pedestrian and human, but of Quinn. “She’s in the shed. I’ll get her.”

“Tell her to hurry her fine ass up. We want to do this thing so we can go back to work.”

Possessiveness reared its head, heat racing up her neck and down to settle in her stomach. She smothered it quickly, now well practiced at defeating her jealous flare ups. While she continued to think of Quinn’s fine everything as hers the reality was it wasn’t that way. Still. And Quinn was still Quinn. Hollywood glamorous even when sweaty, covered in dirt, and wearing men’s clothing. People flirted with Quinn constantly; she couldn’t blame them for it. But that didn’t stop her from thinking murderous thoughts.

Clearing her throat and hardening her “evil eye” expression, Chevy got the hint. Or, at least, she thought he did. He bowed -- actually bowed -- in a completely goofy way and doffed an imaginary hat. “My lady.”

“I’ll kill you, Chevy.”

She watched him saunter off, yelling and waving at those still working to follow him down to the beach.

“Going to have to start calling him Charming,” she muttered and headed for the front door. Inside the cabin she paused, drinking in the now familiar sight of the threadbare couch, pot bellied stove, and worn recliner. Contentment swelled. It wasn’t perfect by any stretch of her imagination but considering where she’d lived and struggled since Z-Day… A smile snuck back across her lips. She padded through the cabin towards the back door, trailing her fingers over whatever she could reach as she passed by the kitchen and into the short hall. The cabin had two bedrooms; she stepped past the one they didn’t use and peeked her head into the other. 

Their room, where the magic didn’t happen.

It looked like it might be happening, though. The bed was a disaster. They’d hardly known what to do with themselves the first night with a queen size bed that was more than big enough for the two of them, an actual comforter that smelled of dust and disuse, and pillows so flat they had to fold them in half to get any use out of them.

But it was theirs. Their bed.

She chewed on her bottom lip and shut the door to the room. It would make it colder when they went to bed later, but looking at the crumpled blankets and tangled sheets would only cause her brain to leap ahead when it shouldn’t.

They hadn’t talked about it. She sometimes wondered if she should bring it up. Sharing space had started in the desert and progressed on the Skylark, yet they hadn’t said anything. Then on Afognak, again, neither of them mentioned it. Quinn had simply walked into the cabin behind her and set her stuff on the couch.

It didn’t feel like survival any longer. Like how they had needed to share the Bronco because they were concerned about time and how little they could have. It wasn’t simply a matter of comfort in the dark unknown as it had been on the Skylark, where they’d needed to be near because it everything was new and still so dangerous.

True, the island was new and it had its own set of challenges and worries. But that driving need to keep an eye on each other? Rachel didn’t feel it like that anymore. She doubted Quinn did either. It was different now.

They weren’t apocalyptically assigned roommates. They lived together, sharing a fixer-upper home and a bed. Because they wanted to; that’s what it really came down to.  
Because they wanted to and they could.

Rachel sucked in a harsh breath and leaned against the hallway wall. Out the four-panel back door window she could see Quinn’s shed. Her claimed space. The one space Rachel has never even tried to invade because she wanted Quinn to have all the space she needed when she needed it.

They were so close now; sometimes it was hard to breathe in the thickness between them. An escape was necessary, for both of them. Rachel had the porch to run to when she needed to be alone with her thoughts, dark or otherwise. Sometimes she just needed to be able to breathe, to take a moment and resettle -- re-center -- before she did something impulsive that could ruin everything. It got hard to focus at times, lost in what felt too much like a fantasy. The porch offered a view of their town, still in shambles, and of the forest beyond that felt wild and dangerous and untamed. She could sit out there wrapped in a blanket with a mug of pine needle tea and drop herself back into reality. As nice as everything was -- as much as she could pretend that things were different – the real world was still challenging and deadly. She needed to focus on that.

Soon, she promised herself and straightened back up. Soon she would get her answers and ask her questions. Just not right then. Not right now. They had other things to fix first. Only once the dust had truly settled could they even attempt to start on fixing themselves or the mess that bound them together.

\---

Quinn wiped some sweat off her forehead and leaned in closer to her work. She’d hoped to have it finished earlier, but learning a new trade by trial and error took time.

She had it down now. Not perfectly by any means or well enough that she’d have been able to sell for good profit Before, but for their purposes it would work.

Rachel would love it.

She heard the backdoor of the cabin snap closed and immediately felt the prick of anxiety sweeping along her nerves. She forced her hand to slowly unclench from the stock of her new shotgun, remembering that she’d left the shed door open a crack to let the cold air in and keep her from passing out from heat exhaustion.

There were no zombies on Afognak for her to worry about. No matter how often she reminded herself of that she couldn’t ever turn off her senses. She’d spent years training herself to be on the alert for the walking dead and now she couldn’t undo it. Not all that simply, anyway. On the Skylark she’d felt more isolated from that kind of danger; back on land and she returned to fighting form, ready to attack or run at the slightest provocation.

The only comfort she could find was that she wasn’t the only one having troubles adjusting. All of the others seemed to be suffering the same ill effects of their time on the mainland.

Rachel had almost bashed her head in with a baseball bat the second day on land. Fortunately Quinn’s reflexes were quick enough that she could duck out of the way. Sneaking up on anyone, even accidentally, who had survived the harsh reality of Z-Day was almost as dangerous as the damn zombies.

It was also strangely reassuring that when she jerked awake in the middle of the night with a pistol in hand, Rachel was right beside her doing the same thing.

They were all fucked up. That made them all normal, right? The ones who weren’t twitchy and irritable -- they were the weird ones. They were the people to watch out for because they hadn’t snapped yet. Ticking time bombs waiting to go off right in their midst.

Nobody named it, but she had an inkling they’d all self-diagnosed long before disembarking from the Skylark. Post traumatic stress disorder. They were all soldiers in a war they hadn’t signed up for or been trained to act in. An island full of traumatized people without a professional around to treat them. She often wondered who would snap next. Andrew had been the first she’d seen lose his grip and it terrified her to think she could be next, or maybe one of her friends. The idea of having to do the same to them as they had to Andrew…

“Hey, Hollywood,” Rachel called and rapped her knuckles twice on the outside of the shed.

Quinn jerked, eyes snapping back to the present in time to watch the heated metal in her hands touch her left wrist.

“Mother shitfuck!” she hissed and nearly threw the metal rod across the room.

They’d tried to work out a way for Rachel to approach the shed without scaring Quinn out of her skin; so far nothing really worked, but the double warning at least gave her enough time to calm back down before she did something awful like blast a warning shot through the wall.

“Broadway,” she replied, once her heart rate had slowed back down. Her wrist stung and a bright pink burn stood out against her pale skin. Rachel would kill her if she saw it. “It’s almost done.”

“Permission to enter?”

Quinn looked around the small filthy space, then back to her wrist, and winced. “Uh, how about I come out there?”

She saw a sliver of Rachel’s face in the crack of the door. A brown eye narrowed at her. “Please tell me you didn’t injure yourself.”

“No, I’m good. It’s just messy in here.” She shook her head, wrapping a rag around her wrist and picking up the sign she’d been working tirelessly on with a sigh. She’d gotten the name burned in straight this time, at least. It was still kind of shallow, but readable, and she could work on it some more even after they’d put it up.

Rachel smiled as Quinn stepped outside, awkwardly clasping the sign to her chest so Rachel couldn’t read it. Most surprises after Z-Day had been bad; she wanted to bring back fun surprises. “See, I’m whole and unharmed.”

“For now,” Rachel said and quirked an eyebrow. She pursed her lips and pulled at the top of the sign.

“No peeking,” Quinn teased, gently pulling it back and shaking her head. “I take it everybody’s ready?”

“I’d like to say it’s because they’re excited about this idea you cooked up, but I think they just want to see what you’ve been working on and then go back to work.”

“I suppose I can’t be mad at them for wanting to make their homes livable.” Quinn smiled and gestured at the shed door with her head. “Can you close that for me?”

“I could carry the sign…”

“Nice try.” She side stepped Rachel and started towards the cabin. They could walk around, seeing as there wasn’t any sort of fence, but she liked being in the cabin. It might be old but it was new to her and she still felt a thrill when she was inside it. Like she had a home and it was hers and being in it brought that feeling back all over again. “Are we late?”

“Seeing as you’re bringing the main event, I’d say the rest of them are early.”

Rachel bounded ahead of her and opened the door, growling as Quinn hunched over in a sort of bow and grinned. That new nickname was kind of fun. “Why thank you, Your Highness.”

“Don’t you start.”

She stepped inside the cabin and took a nice, deep lungful of stale cabin air. Home. “You ready to give your speech?”

“I still don’t see why I have to do it. It was your idea.” Rachel shot her a look and Quinn knew it was meant to be stern. The small, pleased smile that was fighting her expression, however, ruined it.

Quinn bumped her lightly with her elbow. “Come on, Broadway. We both know you’re the one that gives speeches.”

“I do not!”

The laugh Quinn had been barely keeping hold of burst out. Rachel groaned and pushed her.

“Stop that.”

“You gave a speech when we got here, remember? God, I wish I had a phone so I could have recorded it. You know that’s the moment you earned your new nickname, right?” Quinn grinned, loving the way Rachel wrinkled her nose as if in distaste. She knew better.

“I was rallying the troops.”

“You were being a leader. It’s too late to not want that hat now. You’re the leader, Madam Mayor.”

“Keep it up and see where it gets you,” Rachel threatened unconvincingly.

“I would be afraid of sleeping on the couch,” Quinn said with a glance at the mentioned furniture. “But we both know you’d be out here in an hour to drag me back to bed because you’re cold.”

“Maybe I should sleep on the couch then.” Rachel replied, glaring up at her. “The fireplace would keep me toasty and leave you in time out.”

Quinn snorted. “Great idea. You can burn down the cabin; that’ll teach me not to tease you.”

“I know how to work the fireplace!”

But it wasn’t the same. Quinn sobered and held her tongue, watching Rachel for several moments and waiting for her to “read her mind”. A known body in bed sharing warmth in the cold of night with a hand to reach for when the memories struck could never be replicated by the heat of the fireplace.

Rachel stared at her and Quinn saw the moment when Rachel got it. Brown eyes flicked away, focusing on the wall, while her mouth turned down at the corners. “Right.”

Quinn nodded. “Yup.”

There was something else there. Something more Rachel wanted to say, or ask. Quinn could see it in the way she flexed her jaw. She tensed, waiting for it.

For that question she knew shouted in Rachel’s mind.

The question.

Quinn knew, she just didn’t know how it would be worded. Rachel could always surprise with that, still. She’d always spoken her mind, generally without filter, but the wording could still knock Quinn off her feet on occasion. Direct and to the point or coy and dodgy. She didn’t know which it would be this time around.

She shifted, rocking from her toes to her heels and back. “We should probably get moving. If we don’t show up soon Chevy’s going to come looking for us.” 

“He was already here,” Rachel said after clearing her throat. “I’m thinking about calling him Charming.”

A grin sneaked across her face and Quinn let it go. “Oh really? I don’t know that he’ll get the reference.”

“He’s calling me Mayor and Your Majesty.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “And Luz started it. I’m pretty sure they all know what they’re referencing.”

“Hm, well now we’re going to have to sit around and figure out who everyone else could be in this game.”

“I’m nothing like her,” Rachel mumbled, wincing a little. “Other than being a brunette.”

“A feisty brunette.” Quinn smiled more fully and tilted her head thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I think it’s a compliment.”

“I’m not evil.”

She said it in a way that Quinn could almost hear the question mark at the end. Then she followed it up with an actual question and Quinn’s chest tightened.

“Am I?”

“No,” Quinn said quickly and with a firm shake of her head. Rachel was looking at her now with a guarded expression, but the hope in her eyes hurt. “No, Rachel. How could you possibly think you’re evil? And you know what, I don’t think the comparison has anything to do with that. You are so good that – that I can’t actually stand to hear you question it, okay? You’ve saved a lot of us. Hell, I’ll say it. You saved all of us.”

“Not all,” Rachel reminded darkly. “Not all.”

Damn you, Andrew, Quinn thought and tightened her grip on the sign. She should have killed him when she had the chance and taken that from Rachel, just like she had with Ethan. She could have handled it, could have taken the extra weight off of Rachel’s overburdened shoulders. 

Rachel remained silent as Quinn inched over towards her, lowering her head enough to peer directly at Rachel. “You are good. You’re strong and caring and so good. Even dealing with all of this shit, you’re still good.”

And you make me better.

“We should go, they’ll all be waiting,” Rachel said, stepping away.

Quinn’s chest ached as she watched her go. Slow steps gained strength and speed and a natural swagger took hold as Rachel pushed aside her troubles. Quinn used to find the swagger mesmerizing, the amount of charisma and power displayed from such a small body, but now it just hurt to see.

Afterall, she knew a mask when she saw one.

\---

The salty breeze tussled her hair, throwing it right across her face. Quinn sighed and tried to move it away from her mouth and out of her eyes, knowing just as soon as she could see again the wind would pick it up and toss it back. 

She huffed, exasperated, and turned to Rachel who had somehow tamed her own long locks. Rachel had a hand over her mouth, but Quinn could see that she was smiling just by the way the corner of her eyes crinkled with mirth.

“It’s not funny.”

Rachel shook her head. “No, of course not. I was thinking that in your movies – when the wind tossed your hair – it always looked so pretty. Reality isn’t quite as glamorous, is it?”

“I feel like Cousin It,” Quinn mumbled, squinting to try and see through wind-whipped blonde hair. She tried not to jolt in surprise as calloused hands moved through her hair, working from her forehead back.

Rachel shook her head, still smiling, and secured Quinn’s hair with a hair tie. “Do not lose that. I don’t have very many.”

“How would I lose it?”

“Don’t know, but it’s you.”

At least her hair was out of her face. Quinn smiled her thanks and then looked out over the crowd before them. They’d all gathered on the beach, near the Skylark and everyone’s attention was on them. Quinn tried to stifle an unfamiliar rush of nervousness, gripping the sides of her sign a bit tighter and swallowing hard. “So, let’s get this done, yeah?”

Rachel shrugged one shoulder and then cleared her throat. “Today isn’t the day where all our dreams come true,” she called loudly, not quite bellowing but speaking with that sure tone that let others know it was time to pay attention. “Our new home isn’t finished and it will never be what we had Before.”

She paused and smiled again at Quinn. “What it is though, is ours. This place will be home; it will be safe and warm. This is where we start over. Where we build newness. Where we re-build ourselves and do more than survive.”

Quinn took a deep breath and then turned around the sign in her arms, showing off the name she’d painstakingly burned.

Humanity.

She heard Rachel choke, just for a second, then clear her throat again. When Quinn looked she saw a wet sheen to Rachel’s eyes.

“Today is the day we christen this place as our home. This sign will hopefully someday be the first thing several others see as they step onto land. It will represent who we are, what we are, and where we are. It will welcome all the weary and damaged with open arms.”

“Welcome to Humanity,” Quinn said, beaming with pride as she jammed the stake that held the sign into the ground. It didn’t quite sit straight, but she thought that just added some more charm to the whole thing. “Current population: 23.”

She flicked her finger against the small wooden tags that had the numbers on them.

Rachel’s hand found hers and curled around her palm. “Hopefully someday that number will increase as we find more survivors. For now, let’s get back to work. Together we’ll rebuild Humanity!”

A cheer went up and several people raised fists in the air.

Quinn smiled down at Rachel and squeezed her hand. “Told you so, speech giver.”

Brown eyes rolled. “Oh yeah, I’m going to take all the blame for the cheers, sign maker.”

Chevy, perhaps sensing a lull in enthusiasm, jumped up on a nearby stump and pointed towards the cabins. “Come on men! Charge!”

The entire crowd followed after him, cheering and grinning as if they were suddenly re-energized and ready to break their backs doing hard labor.

Rachel shook her head and pulled Quinn along behind her at the back of the pack. She moved at more sedate a pace and Quinn was more than happy to follow along.

“So, your highness, what job would you like me to do now?” she asked, thrilled with Rachel’s groan. The teasing felt good. Normal.

Rachel shot her a look out of the corner of her eye.“You don’t knock that off you’re going to end up being Sheriff of Humanity.” 

“Do I get a badge?”

Rachel groaned again, letting go of Quinn’s hand to stomp away.

Quinn grinned to herself and put her hands on her hips as she surveyed the little town of Humanity and took in a deep sea flavored breath. “Sheriff of Humanity. I could do worse.”


	3. Chapter 3

Quinn winced around a mouthful of pine tea. Not from the heat of it, but the flavor. It was a bit of an acquired taste, and she hadn’t acquired it yet. But the warm liquid was soothing on her scratchy throat, and it wasn’t stale, iron-flavored water like she was used to. She sighed and took another sip, clutching the old mug with both hands. 

“Hey.”

She jumped, almost dropping the tea. “Jesus, Rach.”

“Sorry! I’m sorry,” Rachel said, holding her hands up. “Sorry.”

“No, I -” Quinn laughed and set the mug down so she could rub at the back of her stiff neck. “We’ve been here long enough you think I’d have learned to calm down. Of course it’s you.”

“It would probably help if you hadn’t woken up screaming in the middle of the night. And had actually gone back to sleep.” Rachel’s voice was hoarse, lower than Quinn had ever heard it. Neither of them had slept much, or well. “You want to talk about it?”

Quinn closed her eyes and let her head hang. The dream had changed, adapted to new unspoken fears. It was no longer just Beth crying alone as blood covered monsters crowded around her. Rachel had joined the cast, clutching Quinn’s little girl and waving an empty pistol in a futile effort to scare them off. To defend, protect, save the day. She always shouted Quinn’s name over the sound of the groaning dead and the empty gun clicking as she reflexively pulled the trigger, as though sheer hope could somehow produce an extra round. Just one round. One more second of life before it was ripped from them both. “No,” she said, shakily. “No, I’m okay. You’ve got your own nightmares. I don’t need to add to them.”

“Quinn, it’s okay. That’s why - I mean, I’m here. I’m here for you to talk to, not just for someone to… distract you. I don’t mind holding you, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that, we were talking before -- on the ship we talked.”

She thinks you’re pulling away. You’re scared. Open your mouth and say so. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind. All this quiet, being stationary. We’re not fighting like we were. My brain caught up with me, that’s all.”

She looked over and saw Rachel chewing on the corner of her bottom lip, eyes locked on the floor. Her arms were wrapped around herself. Pensive Rachel, a callback to high school that made Quinn’s chest ache. “I’m here, Quinn. I’m with you. Going through the same things. If you need to talk or want to talk… nothing’s changed or going to change about that.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Rach. I just need to process on my own for a bit,” Quinn said. Dirty coward. “I appreciate you, you know. Staying up with me. Talking me down. All of it.”

She did the same thing without thinking about it. Rachel woke up crying almost as often as she did. Silent tears that gave way to heaving sobs bordering on hyperventilation when Quinn touched her. They reacted to each other, with each other, in similar ways. Whispering soothing words, assuring the other that it was okay now, they were safe. Hands stroked hair and rubbed circles on shaking shoulders. Small kisses were dropped with utmost care on foreheads, temples, cheeks. Tears were brushed away. 

Quinn didn’t know when that had started to hurt, too. Or why. But she had a plan. If she couldn’t speak the things she was feeling, she’d have to settle with a showing. So she smiled, tightly, to herself and then pushed away from the kitchen counter. She approached Rachel carefully, and very gently slid her hands around Rachel’s elbows. Rachel didn’t protest, though she flinched, and Quinn took that as an okay. She pulled until Rachel leaned into her. 

“I know I’m not being the easiest person in the world to be around,” she said to the top of Rachel’s head. “Hang in there with me. Please?”

“You don’t have to say please. You don’t even have to ask. I worry about everyone, but I really worry about you. You’ve been... reckless.”

More guilt, Quinn swallowed it down. “It’s all new again. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Rachel inhaled deeply once, and then pulled away. She nodded and then sighed. “It’s really early. Were you and Chevy still going out?”

“That’s the plan,” Quinn said. 

“You’ll be back before it’s dark?” Finally Rachel’s glare returned, a stern expression instead of a crestfallen, spooked, or exhausted one. Warrior Broadway had come back. 

“Yes, Broadway. Of course we will. And I’ll have my walkie on me in case of trouble.” 

“I don’t know why you two think you need to do this. We have plenty of meat; you don’t need to hunt every day.” Rachel huffed and tousled her hair. “We can’t store it, you both know that. Anything you bring back will go to waste.”

“We’re not going to get meat, or trophies. We’re just scouting, just off on a mission. Chevy calls it recon: getting to know the area, the best hunting spots. It’s nothing.”

Rachel looked so very annoyed, but she rolled her eyes and waved a hand. “Go on then. I want radio check-ins at regular intervals. One of you better take a rifle, not just a bow. I don’t care how proficient you both think you are with them.”

“Yes, ma’am, Madam Mayor,” Quinn said and finished it off with her best charming smile. With a split second of hesitation she leaned in a kissed Rachel’s cheek. “We’ll be good.”

***

Quinn’s back hurt, her feet felt heavy, and the rifle slung across her arms wasn’t helping much. But she managed a smile for Chevy when he tripped on an exposed tree root. “Walk much?”

“Yeah, laugh it up. See if I help you when you faceplant in bear shit,” he said, gruffly. He grinned at her, swiping at the sweat on his forehead, and then sat down. “Break time.”

“Like a rock, Chevy?” She rolled her eyes and plopped down beside him, hiding a wince as her spine announced its displeasure. “You’re getting old.”

“It’s this place,” Chevy said, rolling his neck with a grimace. “You know, in combat with adrenaline going there’s no time to feel the hurts. It’s the downtime that kills you.”

Downtime. Quinn paused in reaching for her canteen. Is that where they were? In downtime? A break before it all went to shit again? Her hands trembled as she raised her canteen. It didn’t feel like downtime. Not a lull like they’d been in on the helicopter on their way to the Skylark. This felt more permanent, Limbo-like. What, exactly, was a person supposed to do in Limbo other than go crazy?

She swallowed a gulp of water with a grimace. Before she had loved silence, stillness. It gave her time to collect her thoughts, read a book. Alone time was a precious gift, especially for someone in the public eye. Now, without the constant battle to survive, without gunfire and traveling, her free-time felt heavy. Every time she paused it caught up with her. All the loss, the horror, the weight of everything that had gone wrong in her world. She heard screaming in her head when she closed her eyes. 

“Downtime,” she said. “When you were in Iraq and Afghanistan, what did you do with your downtime?”

Chevy flopped over onto his back, straw from his battered camelback hanging from the side of his lips. “Worked out. Played video games. Worked out some more.”

“You stayed busy.”

“Yeah, you go stir crazy sitting in your bunk waiting for action. Combat stress never fades. You’re always waiting to go again. If you don’t get rid of that energy it does things to your head.”

She nodded and screwed the lid back on her canteen. “I get that.”

“I bet you do.” He squinted at her. “Is that what’s going on with you? Got a Hulk-out building up?”

“Maybe,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t feel angry right now, but when I’m sitting still… I’m so angry, Chevy. My body aches.”

“Well we’re doing something right now.” He gestured around at the forest. “Recon is still action. You’ve got situational awareness now like any soldier. You can’t turn it off and it’s easier to use it appropriately, instead of sitting in a cabin at the end of the world using it on Rachel.”

“Hyper awareness.” She shuddered. Heightened senses. Every movement drew her eyes, every sound made her flinch, fingers twitching around an imaginary trigger. In silence her skin crawled, hair standing up, body anticipating the worst. “I’ll never be able to turn it off?”

“Maybe someday,” Chevy said, gently. “We’re all still coping. Some better than others.”

“An island full of people with PTSD,” she replied with a snort. “If that’s not a recipe for disaster… oh wait, we already had our disaster, didn’t we.”

He sat back up, brushing dirt and forest bits off his shirt. “It’s not as bad as it could be, Hollywood. Just promise me one thing. If you start feeling the cabin fever, like you’re going to go green, you come find me, okay? We’ll find something to do. You’ve got to release that tension.”

And I’m a better target than Rachel she finished for him. “I wouldn’t hurt her.”

His expression softened, just a bit. “I know. I’m just saying. You two are a pressure cooker of tension without any help from the rest of this shit-storm.”

She glared at him. “Watch it.”

“Hey, call it like I see it. If I’m being honest, and a good battle buddy is always honest, if you two would deal with that it’d make the rest of this easier.”

“I have things to figure out with myself,” she said tersely and stood back up. “You’re a good battle buddy, buddy, but stay out of that please. If I want to talk about it I’ll bring it up.”

He held up his hands. “Alright, cool. You want to hunt some more or you ready to go back?”

She shielded her eyes and scanned the treetops for the sun. If they started back they’d make it to town before the sun set. “Let’s go a little further.”

“You sure you want to do this? I’m all for a bit of danger to keep my skills sharp, but this is a pretty big bite to take on.” He stood up as well, groaning as he stretched.

“I’m doing it. I have to.” I have to show her.

He sighed and pulled his mini-binoculars out of his cargo pocket. “I’ve got our next point. But we’re turning around after we reach it. I don’t want to be tripping through these woods in the dark. Not without NVG’s.”

“Afraid of the dark, big man? Night vision goggles are a crutch,” she said and gestured for him to lead on.

“Afraid of the dark? No. Afraid of the hungry things that patrol in the dark? Hell yes. I like to keep the sexy man-flesh on my bones, thank you.”

She snorted and shoved him as he passed her. “Whatever. Hurry up.”

***

Rachel paced the creaking porch. She didn’t pause to investigate the loose boards anymore. There wasn’t time. The sun had continued to set, despite her desperate wishes for it to wait just a little longer. She was out of time. They were out of time. 

No time. 

She reached the warped railing on one side, pivoted, and stalked once again for the other end. Worry turned to anger, turned back into worry, and around to terrified fury again. A last glimmer of light remained as the soft grey of twilight fell over the town. She could still see the edge of the woods, the lengthening shadows cast from the trees. 

But no sign of Quinn, or Chevy. They hadn’t made radio contact all afternoon. She didn’t need a bullet-point list to tell her that wasn’t a good sign. 

Minutes had turned into agonizing hours, their absence more and more noticeable with each tick of Rachel’s internal clock. Time ran out for Chevy and Quinn to come back safely, but it increased for her darkening thoughts. 

Images plagued her as more what-if’s popped up. 

What if they got lost?

What if one of them is hurt?

What if I never see Quinn again?

What if she’s broken and bleeding, and I’m not there?

What if only one comes back?

What if it’s not Quinn?

Rachel stopped, breathing hard through her nose, and gripped the railing. It swayed under her weight and the pressure from her hands. “I swear to God…” she muttered, unable to finish any sort of threat. Saliva turned hot in her throat, clogging, cloying, drying up before she could spit. 

The radio perched on her hip crackled to life and she grabbed it up without bothering to spend the second to recognize the voice. “Quinn?”

“Uh, no,” Luz said. “I asked if you’d heard anything. Guess that answers that question.”

She rubbed at her forehead with her free hand, then pinched the bridge of her nose. “Luz, I swear, I’ll let you know the second I see them.”

“Right. Want me to come over there and help you kick their asses?”

“No,” Rachel said, glaring at the trees once more. “I’ll handle them myself.”

“Don’t do too much damage, Mamacita. Becca asked for Q; I’m sure she’d prefer to see her hero undamaged.”

“Fine,” she snapped and slapped the walkie back to her hip. Luz understood the finality of the tone enough not to respond. At least someone around here has the intelligence to pay attention. 

Her feet hurt, her back ached, and she wanted nothing more than to sit down. Or flop face down on their lumpy mattress and pass out. Between working on buildings all morning and then worrying all afternoon she needed a break. The break that getting to the godforsaken island was supposed to offer. No more screaming, no more dying, no more scratching and biting for the shreds of life they had left. No more worrying. 

She snorted and backed up to lean against the side of the cabin, giving her feet some relief. Arms crossed over her chest she stared at the forest. 

“Rachel?”

“What!” She whirled around, reaching for Mick. 

CJ smiled sheepishly and waved. “Hi. I thought I’d come wait with you, in case.”

In case. Rachel bit back a snarl and gestured at her porch. “In case they need a doctor when I’m through with them?”

With a wince and a short nod CJ took a seat on the steps. “I’ll go with that.”

Now that there was a person in range, someone she couldn’t ignore, the trapped feeling returned tenfold. It felt real again, far too real with a doctor waiting to pounce upon patients. She resumed her pacing, hands scrubbing at her face, scraping through her hair. “Of all the reckless, stupid stunts. I can’t believe them.”

“It’s a lot of forest,” CJ said, looking down at her feet. “They probably didn’t know they’d gone too far until it was too late.”

“Chevy and Quinn?” Rachel snorted again, palms slapping down against her thighs. “They’re supposed to be the careful ones. The tacticians. The ones who don’t get lost in the woods.”

“Well, Chevy is a bit of an overgrown manchild. And Quinn - we call her Hollywood, for God’s sake. It’s not as if she’s had military training.”

“Oh, gee, that makes me feel so much better!” Rachel ground her teeth and levelled CJ with a glare when dark eyes dared to look up at her. “Thanks a lot. I’m so at ease now.”

CJ held her hands up. “I am just saying we don’t know what happened, but I’m sure there’s a valid reason for their tardiness.”

“Tardiness?” She shrieked and punched a support beam. “They’re not late for a fucking class! They disappeared in the woods.”

“Rachel, I didn’t mean…”

Two shapes materialized out of the rapidly darkening woods, more and more detail visible as they traipsed forward.

“I’m going to fucking kill them,” Rachel said, seething.

“Let’s not do anything hasty.” CJ stood, hands reaching to placate.

Rachel dodged them and stalked toward the two idiots. “What part of be back before nightfall didn’t translate?” she snapped. 

Chevy slowed to a stop, scratched his cheek and shot a glance at Quinn. He didn’t seem to know what to do besides fidget and examine the toe of his boots. 

Quinn looked up at the sky. “There’s still light.”

“Really? Your response is to be a smartass?” Rachel had to take a breath and work to keep from stomping a foot. “How fucking childish and irresponsible are you? I give you an order, I expect you to be grown up enough to follow it!”

She realized her mistake as soon as she said it. Something flickered in Quinn’s expression and then Rachel got to watch the walls come up, cutting her off with swift devastation. Her stomach clenched and she opened her mouth to say something else, anything to fix it.

Too late.

Quinn’s lip curled in a sneer. “Forgive me. I wasn’t aware that I’m incapable of making my own decisions. And I thought you were making a request, not commanding. As if that should matter at all. We aren’t in the fucking desert. You’re not in charge of me. And also, fuck you, Rachel.”

CJ took Chevy by the arm and led him away, casting a nervous glance over her shoulder.

Rachel crossed her arms, glaring daggers right back at Quinn. Hot, sweet anger rose up again, evaporating every ounce of worry left. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Quinn put her hands on her hips. All she needed was a cheerleading uniform in McKinley red and they could have gone back in time. “I’m not sorry. I’m a grown woman who survived the zombie-fucking-apocalypse and I don’t need you to boss me around. Don’t forget who saved who.”

“I don’t need you, either.” Rachel snarled right back, fists clenched against her aching ribs. “But you have responsibilities here, and like it or not I’m in charge. When I suggest you be back by dark I expect you to be here and not at the last second.”

“Why don’t you go ahead and fall off that high horse of yours. Ponies are really more your speed.”

“You know what? I don’t care, Quinn. Whatever. Be mad. Do whatever you want. You’re right, I can’t stop you.” Rachel nodded with a frown. She went for the jugular, anger shooting the words off her tongue before she could stop to consider them. “But maybe you should think about the little girl that adores you before you go off on some idiot adventure. Don’t fail her too.”

Quinn stiffened and Rachel heard Chevy groan and CJ’s quiet gasp. She might as well have slapped Quinn. Much like Quinn had on Prom night.

What goes around…

She prepared herself for the burn of Quinn’s vicious words, knowing full well how capable Quinn was at gutting someone verbally.

“I didn’t ask to be stuck at the end of the world with you,” Quinn said, her quiet voice quavering. “I didn’t ask for any of it. Good luck with your demons, Berry.”

She shouldered past Rachel, who couldn’t turn around to watch her go. Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked them back. There was nothing left to say now and her anger bled her dry, leaving nothing behind. 

“Good job,” Chevy grumbled as he, too, walked away.

CJ remained. Rachel felt her presence, her eyes burning holes in the side of Rachel’s head. 

“Not now, CJ,” she said, rubbing at her forehead. “I’ll deal with it later.”

“If you get the chance,” CJ said. She left, too, leaving Rachel standing at the edge of the forest free to cry or not. 

Meanwhile the hole in her heart got bigger.


	4. Chapter 4

Although she’d told her fair share of people to go there and imagined that some activities could resemble a fiery pit of eternal doom, Rachel had never given much thought to the existence of Hell. On occasion she’d considered Mr. Schue to be the Devil. Once she’d told a friend that rehearsals for a particular show were Hell.

None of that compared to living in the world after the virus outbreak. That had surely been Hell on Earth. 

And as hard as that had been, as much as she struggled and fought and cried, the current situation made her want to reevaluate her thoughts on the word and the place it represented.

Hell.

Was it a fiery pit with demons ripping people apart, torturing them over and over for all eternity while Satan sat on his throne and laughed at the screaming? 

Or could it be normal people, mostly decent and kind, turning into mutated and diseased people that attack other humans with a viciousness that would turn a hyena off a meal? Might it be a planet full of them, stalking day and night to destroy the few survivors while everything they’d built crumbled and decayed?

Hell.

Was it more abstract, like how it felt to watch Quinn pull herself away and lock herself behind high-walls, knowing that she had been partially to blame?

They’d all been heading that way. The stress and terror caught up with them, demanding their attention. Even after the end of the world people were still people. They all reacted differently to the new hurdles they faced. Some grew irritable, snapping at everything and everyone. Angry, bitter, paranoid. Some sank into a depression, their facial expressions haunted as they withdrew from contact and social situations. Others overworked themselves, trying to stay one step ahead, and working and working until they were exhausted and sore as if that might help them to fall asleep and not have the energy left to conjure nightmares and memories.

Rachel wanted to check the box for all of the above. One minute angry and defiant, ready to tear into anyone for the slightest hint of attitude and the next she could barely stand, weak and tired and wanting to sleep for the rest of her life. What was the point of getting up and working? It was over.

It was over.

Work offered a respite. Tasks kept her mind busy on something other than survivor’s guilt, pulling her away from thinking about Quinn and how that had gone off the rails so fast. They’d been building something together -- she knew that, she wanted it -- but it was as fragile as the people who held it up. Without both of them the weight was too much for one person and would crush whoever got left with the load. They needed each other.

Therein lay the problem.

It takes two to tango, but they’d started dancing different steps even as the same song played. They’d forgotten how to dance together.

It hurt.

It was Hell.

She had hope still, a thread to clutch at in the middle of the night when she woke up soaked with sweat and tears.

Quinn hadn’t left, and that was something.

They were limping, trying to nurse wounds that neither had given a name to yet, but they hadn’t left each other.

Rachel would sooner remove a limb than remove Quinn. She knew Quinn felt the same.

They just weren’t saying it…

Actually they weren’t saying much of anything at all.

Still angry and disappointed, Rachel watched Quinn go to bed every night. For three days so far it’d been on the couch by the fireplace instead of in the bedroom, or even the spare room. But not their room. Anger brewed like a thick burbling acid in Rachel’s gut. It burned and crept up her chest, scorching, fueling her temper and testing her restraint.

She didn’t say anything because patience was something she’d learned; they all needed it. She needed Quinn’s patience and understanding, too. The fury had to be dealt with, and not at Quinn’s expense.

Every time Rachel tried to speak – to say sorry, or demand her own apology, to talk it out – her words got caught between her throat and her teeth.

It was there, in the silence and space, all of it: everything they couldn’t yet, or wouldn’t yet, say to each other. If she squinted hard enough she thought she might even be able to see the words.

Quinn’s face expressed everything they each couldn’t voice. Her walls were up but they weren’t as strong and her eyes spoke of the hurt she felt. Betrayal screamed at Rachel from the set of Quinn’s jaw and the frown on her smart mouth.

Her actions said other things. Important things. The things Rachel wanted to hear, or see, or feel.

Quinn said I’m sorry in the way she made the bed she wasn’t sleeping in. I need time, she explained by leaving out a warm mug of tea for Rachel in the morning. A promise of I’m not leaving you behind when she went to bed on the couch. I’m still here.

You’re important to me, she whispered by tucking Rachel in at night when she thought Rachel had fallen asleep already.

Everything Rachel thought she should to say to Quinn died on her tongue so she licked her lips, swallowed the confusion and anger back, and tried to fix them in other ways. By actively trying, and by listening to the silence.

They were both broken, both at fault, and it might have been Hell, but they’d been Heaven before - or at least close to it. And she could be patient.

They were worth it.

Rachel knew she needed to work on herself, too, before she tried to help Quinn and before they tried to put emotions into words. She had to be able to say what she wanted, to express it well and clearly. But first she had to define what it was she actually wanted, because she still didn’t know. Not for sure, anyway. Emotional changes after the real-world changes were tricky. They could be feelings brought on by the situation, and she had to be one-hundred percent sure. 

Neither of them could deal with a mistake that tasted like a lie.

And that probably meant unloading some baggage, pulling open her chest and examining all the dark spots on her heart.

Painful, dirty, and awful – perhaps that would be Hell.

She got up early on the fourth day, to catch Quinn before she left. Not to talk, it wasn’t time yet, but to watch. She let the silence speak for her, eyes tracking Quinn’s careful movements, hands curled around her mug of tea.

Quinn stared back at her for a long moment, unreadable aside from the slightest twitch of her fingers resting at her side and the barely there arch of one pale eyebrow.

Rachel didn’t smile, didn’t wave, didn’t ask Quinn to be careful. She just watched, leaning against the open front door of the cabin, as Quinn walked swiftly toward the other buildings. 

She didn’t look back.

And Rachel didn’t need it. Instead she turned around and closed the door to the cabin. She left the bed a mess so Quinn could make it later, taking a moment to pick Mick up instead. Still in its holster, the trusty pistol hadn’t been used in, well, in a long time. She pulled it out and ran her fingers over the sights, marvelling at how the weight in her hand felt calming.

A symbol of violence she didn’t have to carry anymore.

“Goodnight bullets, goodnight gun, goodnight to being survivors on the run,” she murmured, putting it back into the holster and tucking it away in one of the bedside drawers.

Her steps felt lighter as she left the bedroom again. With nothing on the agenda for the day except working on fixing another cabin, pretty soon they’d be able to try building a new one.

They carried hammers now, not guns. She may forever see everything as a potential weapon, but today – today she would focus on building with tools instead of destroying with them.

Today she would work on herself and trust Quinn.

Quinn would work on Quinn; that’s who she was. She would follow the steps she knew worked because she’d done it before when Lucy became Quinn the first time. She understood transformation. Cheerleader to Gleek to mother to lost girl and so on. Quinn knew how to make changes and accept them.

She’ll be okay, Rachel thought with a heavy sigh. We both will be.

“Thank God it’s a dry island,” she said to the empty cabin with a small, huffed laugh. “Otherwise   
we’d all be drunks.”

\---

Coward.

Quinn slammed the hammer harder at the nails. Sweat stung her eyes and trickled down her back. She swiped at it with her sleeve, ground her teeth, and swung the hammer again.

Bang!

Dirty.

Bang!

Rotten.

Bang!

Coward.

She wanted to scream, or cry, or throw up. The commentary continued with each repetitive slam, her hammer strikes jarring her hand all the way up to her elbow from too much force for the work she’d been given. Not that knowing that meant she could stop it.

It hurt. It all hurt, especially Rachel accepting the silent treatment with grace. It was treatment she didn’t deserve, but Quinn couldn’t stop now. She’d fallen into a hole and it remained easier to stand at the bottom of the deep chasm of silence than to start shouting for help. She felt guilty for trying to fix it -- fix them -- by doing other things. Stupid things, like making the bed she was too big of a coward to sleep in anymore. 

Rachel deserved better.

She deserved bravery, not cowardice.

Quinn was a coward, and she knew it, but the others didn’t. They didn’t know and they didn’t say anything and she couldn’t pretend anymore.

There was nothing to cover it with anymore. She couldn’t volunteer to do dangerous things. There were no storms to run out into. No gun wielding lunatics holding hostages. No zombies.

There was nothing left but Rachel.. and Becca. Becca who wasn’t Beth, but looked close enough – close enough to break Quinn’s heart, make it bleed all over the place.

Becca and Rachel, who had together managed to ruin Quinn’s ability to pretend.

Chevy understood, or seemed to. Maybe he should have been the actor instead of her. He watched her so closely now, like a guardian angel or babysitter. His protective instincts had flared up and the deeper she fell into whatever this was the harder he worked at safeguarding her.

It should have been annoying. She should have hated it.

But she was a coward, and she wanted him close. Needed his strength to supplement hers, at least for now.

Because she had a plan.

A terrifying plan that had to be done because she was a coward, and she couldn’t be that anymore.

She didn’t like being alone but she couldn’t be near Rachel because it scared her more. Becca depended on her more and more as the days passed. She’d already failed her own child and now another looked to her for protection.

Every day the agony worsened. A torture trap of her own making, her own mind and body forming a prison she couldn’t run away from or shoot or beat to submission.

Only they weren’t jammed together in cars anymore, fighting each day. The ship was gone and their transition period too short. The mission had been completed; they’d made it someplace safe.

Safe was dangerous. Now they had nothing to fight but each other and themselves.

Safe was an illusion, and she’d lost her armor.

“Hollywood,” Chevy said in her ear.

Quinn dropped the hammer and spun around, heart beating against her ribs, eyes wide. He held his hands up.

“Easy, Quinn. Just me.”

She shook all over and hid it by raising her chin and crossing her arms. “What’s up?”

“You’re crying,” he said, looking away. Out of respect, most likely, but it made her stomach churn anyway.

She didn’t deserve that.

“Whatever,” she said, voice too pitched too high for a casually snide delivery. “Am I?”

He blocked the door, his broad shoulders filling the space and sucking all the air out of the room. She knew that Chevy would never hurt her, but in that moment she sized him up and realized how big he actually was. How strong. How easy it would be for him to overpower her.

She’d survived a car accident before, barely, and it had left her crippled. Coming back from that had been hard but she’d done it.

His name was Chevy and if he chose to he could wreck her like the truck that had hit her. Chevy could rip through her like the Chevy truck had ripped through her Volkswagen Bug. 

Coward, her mind sneered. Her lip curled in response.

“Why don’t you head over to the lodge? It’s about lunch time; Becca’s probably wondering when her favorite person is going to stop by.” He continued to refuse to look at her.

She bristled, thinking of things to say. Struggling for snappy retorts that might knock him down to a more manageable size. “Okay,” she said instead.

“We’ll get through this, Q. I promise.” He grabbed her wrist when she tried to slide past him and panic grabbed her lungs with chilly hands.

“Let go.” She forced him to make eye-contact by forcing herself first. Brown eyes peered down at her and she saw concern there, not disgust. “Please.”

“You’re spiraling a bit, buddy,” he murmured. “The offer still stands. You need someone to scream at? I’m your man. You need to punch someone? I’m your man. Whatever you need, whenever you need it.”

She thought about kissing him. Glanced down at his mouth at the fleeting thought. She could wrap herself up in him, hide in his strength, run away using her body. She’d done it before.

But his eyes were like Rachel’s. Brown and wide and warm. It wouldn’t be fair to any of them. She couldn’t use Chevy to run from Rachel. Couldn’t go backward and do more damage to herself.

To Rachel.

Chevy would never be what she wanted. Too big, too strong, too male -- too much the opposite of what she wanted.

She was trying to stop being a coward.

She didn’t want Puck, or Finn, or Sam. Not Chevy, or Alex, or anyone else. Luz or CJ, either.

Just Rachel.

If she could just find a way to express that without saying it out loud. She could never get words back from the air once they left her mouth, and that made her cowardly heart trip mid-beat. 

Thoughts were safe, but actions took bravery.

With a deep breath she faked a smile, watching him squirm. He’d noticed her looking. She saved him from having to address that, too. “Your lips are bleeding,” she said, pointing at his cracked bottom lip. 

“Oh.” He sagged slightly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, this mountain air is murder on them. Hopefully we’ll get a well dug soon. Thank God for that one geeky dude who knows how to do that shit.”

“Yeah… Thank God,” she repeated and eased around him. “I’ll see you later. I’ve got some things to take care of after I leave the lodge. Don’t wait up.”

He grunted and she reminded herself to walk with her head held high as she left the run-down cabin they were fixing.

No more running.

\---

“Quinn!” Becca came at a run, her little feet stomping on the creaking floor of the lodge. The other kids, mostly older, rolled their eyes as they witnessed the scene.

Quinn smiled a real, genuine smile and knelt down to welcome the impact of a child’s running hug. She played it up, rocking back and ‘oofing’ as Becca knocked into her, giggling already.

“Quinn, we got to pick flowers,” Becca said, bouncing in Quinn’s arms, tiny hands clasped together. “I picked you some.”

“Did you? That’s so sweet.” She released Becca before the squirming started and shook her head as Becca tore off down the hall.

“Hey, Q-be,” Luz said as she approached. She hung back for a moment taking a long look.

Quinn let her, knowing that it wasn’t meant to be offensive. Luz had become Mama Grizzly to the orphans, something the kids needed and Luz needed, too. If she wanted to check Quinn over and make sure she was in the right headspace to be around her charges, well, Quinn didn’t fault her for that at all.

Of course that didn’t mean she’d be nice in her assessment, even if she decided Quinn was a non-threat.

“You look like shit.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Thanks.”

“Anytime. Gotta keep that Hollywood ego from growing too big, ya know.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” Quinn said, reaching over to bump Luz’s shoulder with her fist. “But, really, it’s nice to know somebody’s on the watch for that. Who knows, it could sneak up on me.”

“I’m always in your corner, Q, you know that.” Luz frowned, dark eyes trailing over Quinn. “For anything. I know you’re all buddy-buddy with Chevy, but he’s not your only friend in all of Humanity. Don’t forget that. You need to talk and need chica time -- you know where to find me.”

A blush warmed Quinn’s cheeks and she faked a cough, scratching at her cheek. “Yeah, I know. Speaking of which. I’ve got this thing I have to do today. I just wanted to stop by and say hi to Becca before I went. Could you make sure to do the bedtime story tonight? I don’t know how long this is going to take. I don’t want her to worry.”

Luz narrowed her eyes. “This ‘thing’ wouldn’t happen to be in the woods, would it?”

“It’s a personal thing,” Quinn said with a raised eyebrow. It was easy enough now to pretend to be the hero. She’d played the character enough times. If Luz saw any hint of doubt she’d never let her leave.

Or, even worse, she’d alert Rachel.

“Are you taking Chevy with you?” Luz asked, hands on her hips.

Lie. “Of course. I’m not dumb enough to go without backup.”

Except when I am.

“Damn, woman,” Luz said. “You’re really trying to get Rachel mad, aren’t you? Is this some sort of ‘testing the boundaries’ phase?”

“No, it’s something that I have to do. Rachel will understand.”

Luz whistled and held her hands up. “Right, well, good luck then. Make sure Chevy gets you back before dark this time. I’ll handle the bedtime story for you, but I will not be handling angry Broadway for you.”

“Understood,” Quinn said with a nod. She grinned as Becca barreled back toward them clutching a handful of colorful flowers.

Be brave. Courage, Quinn. She knelt down and reached out trembling fingers to accept her bouquet. Be afraid, accept it, and do it anyway.

Show her.

Show all of them.

Show yourself.


	5. Chapter 5

Quinn shivered in the flickering light. Her small fire might have been pathetic but she thought it was pretty good, all things considered. It wasn’t for warmth or to try and signal for help anyway; she needed it to keep the darkness from swallowing her whole.

There were far too many things in the forest that could come out of the dark. No one was safe in the moon’s embrace especially not a defenseless fool left out in the harsh wild due to their own folly.

Yet here she was lost and on her own -- all to prove a point.

She sniffled, hunched closer to the little flames, and breathed softly on the embers to keep them alive. 

The woods seemed so much closer now that night had draped itself over the scenery. It was almost as if the trees had used nightfall to move in secret, lifting their roots and shuffling forward to cage her. They pressed in all around her surrounding her sad scene of attempted rebellion. Quinn struggled to keep her breathing pattern stable. Reminding herself she was in a great big wooded area helped and so did the gentle, cool breeze rushing through the ravine. At least she wasn’t trapped in an enclosed space that was slowly collapsing in on her. Trapped? Yes, for sure – or maybe stuck was more like it. Trapped in a box or buried alive? No. Not that. Not in a closet, or a coffin, or in a wheelchair unable to move her legs.

Nice job, asshole. You’re freaking yourself out.

“It’s not like I’ve ever been good at being a rebel,” she said with a strained laugh and shake of her head. Even her short-lived punk phase hadn’t accomplished much. She could play tough characters in movies without breaking a sweat but it was an act and it never lasted.

Leaves rustled as a fresh breeze swirled around her and kicked up the sharp, acidic smell of puke. Choking, she swallowed back the encroaching tide of fresh vomit. It had been awhile since she’d cried so hard she’d thrown up. This time she hadn’t even had the pleasure of tequila to help the process, just the self-gagging, heaving sobs for things she couldn’t fix. Long-dried tears made her cheeks sticky and she thought she felt her skin crack when she dared contort her face to grimace before licking at her lips.

No one had mentioned that going out on a walk might lead to hysterical sobbing in the woods, or that it would be the kind that would knock her legs out from under her and leech away whatever strength she had left.

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. A healthy one, even, to use the expected privacy to face down her own demons and the silence and solitude for contemplation and soul searching.  
Instead she’d ended up curled in a ball and hurling, covered in snot and tears, and screaming as her traitorous brain threw image after image of memories in front of her, each one a knife to the gut.

Remember this?

How about that?

She’d done it though. She’d fucking done it. She’d been brave and stupid and reckless and hadn’t run away for once in her miserable life. Alone in the woods stripped raw and bare to the stoic trees and unyielding wind Quinn let it all go. She screamed and cried and beat her fists against the ground howling like a lunatic. The pain cut so deep it stole her breath away. She had no way to right the wrongs and nothing to keep the ghosts at bay.

They surrounded her, tore through her, and dared her to face them.

She’d done it -- stood before them, let them beat her, but she didn’t run. She didn’t bury them.

Peace, she’d begged. Please. Let me have peace.

She was alive and they weren’t and she needed to let go. Release the burden. Life was for the living. Not just surviving. 

Not anymore.

She’d proven to herself that she could be an actual woman of actions. Big actions. Not fake ones for the entertainment of others, but actions for herself and for those who needed them from her. Actions that would speak louder than the words she couldn’t find the strength to get out.

But the past held her back. Reminded her, always, of her weakness, her cowardice that cost the lives of those around her. She caused pain like some sort of ancient god everywhere she went.

She couldn’t anymore. She just wanted to live.

She wanted to be brave. Truly brave.

Of course because her plans and aspirations rarely went according to plan she’d also managed to strand herself in the woods. Emotionally and physically drained, hands wrecked, and body aching she had nothing. No food, no water -- nothing but her knife and flint.

At least she wouldn’t freeze.

“I want to go home,” she muttered, leaning back against the hard support of the tree trunk behind her.

The insanity of it all smacked her in the face with another stiff slap of wind and tears welled anew as she laid there in dirt and rocks.

“Of all the fucking things… this was supposed to fix everything.” She groaned as her ribs protested the jarring motion of sobbing laughter. “I’m such a fucking idiot. How am I even alive?”

Pity, party of one?

No. 

“If I’m going to die here like this in this embarrassing display of almost, it’s not going to be throwing a pity party.” She set her jaw and dredged up all of her deep, ill-concealed emotions.

She had things to live for, after all. At least, she had. Hopefully that was still true.

“Hey, Rachel!” she bellowed at the swaying treetops. Her voice bounced back off the trees and rocks and Quinn sneered at the sound. “I’ve been too afraid to tell you that I like you. I’ve always liked you! You’re brave and good and everything that I’m not. You’re inspiring!”

She swiped at her eyes, crying and grinning like a defeated fool. All her memories of Rachel -- the treasured ones, the book-marked ones -- came to the surface. A wonderful, heart-wrenching montage of images. Rachel’s defiance and her determined smile. That little foot stomp and the strut of someone who didn’t care if her peers thought she was insane. Rachel the lion-heart.

She thought of tender Rachel who only ever wanted to be friends. To have friends and to be cared about as she cared for all of them -- no matter how many slushies and insults they hurled at her. The way Rachel had looked at her over the years in high school. How she sang to her when the pregnancy had demolished Quinn’s everything.

Then new Rachel. Patient Rachel. Leader and warrior Rachel. Here at the end of the world she still looked at Quinn the same way. With that same determined spark in her eyes and that sure smile that had become sadder around the edges but remained on her mouth. The tenderness in her eyes that helped shine a light to chase away all the darkness they both held.

Quinn choked on her own spit and laughed again even though it all hurt so much. “Of all the stupid… I’ve been such a bitch and I don’t deserve any of you. Not with all the things I’ve done.” 

The firelight wavered and dimmed. She turned awkwardly on her side and stretched out for more leaves to put on the embers. Her lungs burned but she managed a few weak breaths to keep the fire alive a little longer.

***

“She did what?” Rachel shouted, fingers curling into her palms. Her fists shook and the need to punch something was so heady her head swam.

Chevy shuffled his feet and rubbed the back of his neck with a wince. “I think she went –“

“I heard you the first time,” she said with a snarl. “How could you let her do this? Both of you knew?”

She turned to Luz and wasn’t shocked to see an impassive expression looking back at her.

“It’s not our fault. You might want to check yourself, Mayor. We’ll share the blame with you but neither Chevy or me is going to take all of it. Q’s the one out in the woods right now. In the end she’s the idiot that lied to me, didn’t tell you or Chevy, and went tra-la-laing out there.”

“I don’t understand it at all.” Rachel sat heavily on the couch – Quinn’s blanket and pillow still on it. She sank her head into her hands and breathed through her nose, attempting to find calm. “Why would she… it’s not like her to lie to you. Or to not tell someone where she was going.”

“Luz, I know we’re gearing up for a rescue, but can you give us a moment?” Chevy’s large hand landed on Rachel’s shoulder. She didn’t bother with trying to duck out from under it. Her eyes burned as a memory of her dad making a similar request for a father-daughter moment popping up unbidden. 

I’m not a teenager anymore, she thought, fighting feelings of guilt even though she knew they were deserved.

I did this. I drove her out.

The door to the cabin closed on a stream of Spanish and then silence.

But not the blessed kind.

“So, we’re going to talk about this,” Chevy said, squeezing his massive frame next to her. “Because we need to get some things done but it’s not going to be safe launching off when we’re all unfocused.”

“I’m focused.” She raised her head and looked at him. “I – we have to go get her. She can’t be out there in the dark, Chevy. I can’t leave her out there.”

Not without me.

Her chest hurt, heart hammering away in a ferocious beat. She swallowed and shook her head. “This is my fault.”

He sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “In my opinion, you’re both being stubborn, dumb jackasses. Yeah, you shouldn’t have brought up Q’s kid like that even though you were right to be pissed at us. Just like Quinn should probably have tried talking more and definitely shouldn’t have gone out in the woods alone.”

“I was wrong. It was stupid and I was mad and now…” Stomach tied up in knots, Rachel stood up and dragged her hands through her hair. “I have to get her back. I can’t apologize to – if she’s –”

He didn’t say anything and his somber expression, brown eyes so devastatingly serious, shook her so hard she grabbed the wall for support.

“Oh god,” she said, goosebumps rising up all over her body. Harsh reality stared at her and she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready for it to attack again. Not like this. They were supposed to be safe now. No more heroics or the horrors that demanded them. “Chevy, what if the last thing I said to her was that? I was so angry and I wanted to hurt her! I wanted to land a punch and force her to think.”

“Think about what?”

“The people who care about her!” She blinked, shocked to hear her own shout echoing back at her. “I just wanted her to know that there are people who depend on her and that she’s important. Too important to do something so crazy that it could leave us without her. There’s only one of her. She’s special to… people. She’s Quinn; she’s always been important.”

To me, she finished unspoken, wiping angrily at the tears on her cheeks and avoiding his too-knowing gaze. “We’re not in the fucking desert anymore, but I forgot how to not be that person. I’ve been so afraid to lose anyone and that’s been a real danger for so long. We lost so many... I lost people.”

“You’re still in survival mode,” he said and stood as well. “It’s okay, Rachel.”

“It’s not,” she choked out. “It’s not okay. She was right, I was holding on too tight and I was scared and I lashed out. I didn’t want to lose her, too. I’ve been too late so many times and I’m sick of being helpless. Now she’s out there alone and I practically dared her to do it!”

He grabbed her in a hug and she leaned into his chest hiding her face. Shame and overwhelming fear spilled over her. She shook, drowning in the feelings.

“Now look,” he said, after she’d regained control of her breath. “It’s a fucked up situation, but we’re only human and we’re dealing with some terrible shit. We’re human and we’re not invincible. Now that you’ve got it out, let’s put that level head back on and go get your girl.”

“She’s not my girl,” she mumbled miserably into his chest. Might have been, maybe, but you messed that up pretty good, Berry.

He snorted. “Broadway, she’s been your girl from the moment she woke up in the back of your Bronco.”

She pressed away from him and wiped her face again. “I’m still mad.”

“You and me both,” he said. “Luz is furious. And we can all be mad together later, after we bring Q back home. We use it to get the mission done and then we’ll deal with it. She’s not the little angel that got lost in the woods. Some talking needs to be done with her, too. Just not right now.”

Not right now, she thought, sucking down a huge breath. “Use it?”

“Yup.” He nodded and pointed at the door. “We march out there, angry and on a rampage, and let it sharpen our focus on the job.”

“How?” She clipped her walkie-talkie back to her belt and froze in reaching for Mick, not on her hip. An automatic, ingrained response. She’d have to retrieve him for one more task. Hopefully the last one.

Chevy’s expression shifted, fury radiating from the set of his jaw to the hunch of his shoulders and bunch of his fists. “That fucking forest has Quinn. I will chop down every goddamn tree if I have to and strangle a bear with my hands. No fucking way does a bunch of trees beat me and keep Quinn. Not today.”

“Not today,” she echoed, and nodded. “I need to get my pistol and we’ll need torches or some sort of light. Do we have flashlights with any battery power left?”

“A few. I say we take them and do the torch thing, too. Cover all the bases.”

She nodded again and rubbed her forehead where a headache had taken over. “Right. We’ll put some teams together, and we’ll need something to mark our trails so we can get back. No sense in more of us getting stuck out there.”

“We’ve got some chalk and ribbon stashed away. Do you want to take the flare gun too?”

Rachel considered for a moment. “Yes, that’s probably the only way to signal to the rest of the teams when we find her. We have the walkies, too, and we’ll want to make sure to use them. Every search party should have a medical pack, flare gun, and walkie. No mistakes tonight.” She cracked her neck and then her knuckles, eyes closed. When she opened them again she looked at Chevy and jerked her head toward the door. “Let’s get after it. Time is not our friend, and I have a few things I’d still like to say to Quinn.”

“On it, your Majesty,” he said with a wink.

***

Rachel’s attempts at using her anger to focus fell by the wayside quickly. The forest was dark, ominous, and so cold. As she and Chevy stumbled their way deeper and deeper her anger dissipated, leaving only the frosty touch of fear. With every plume of foggy breath her heart lurched higher up her throat and threatened to strangle her.

Quinn was out in this, somewhere, and she wasn’t responding to their calls of her name.

Even Chevy had been affected. His determined scowl slipped away as the furrow between his eyebrows deepened. He waved the flaming torch in his hands back and forth, checking everywhere, and the steadiness of his movement became choppier the further they went without finding her.

“Chevy,” she said, her voice a croaking crack in the silent forest. “Chevy, it’s not – she could still be – right? These are survivable conditions?”

“Q’s smart.” He grunted as he stepped over a fallen tree. “I mean, this was stupid, but she’s smart enough to have her flint and a knife with her. I taught her how to start fires. She knows not to move in the dark if lost. She’s probably hunkered down waiting for sunrise to hike out.”

Rachel shivered, picturing Quinn with her back to a rock wall, hands cupped around a fire, and hazel eyes wide with fear. “Yeah,” she said and licked at her lips. “You’re probably right. She’s fine.”

He paused and grabbed her by the elbow. In the light from the torch he looked tired, older than before as deep shadows darkened the lines on his face. He scratched at the bristles of his unshaven cheeks. “Look, I shouldn’t say anything. Not now, or ever really, but I knew she was planning on coming out here.”

Anger returned and socked her in her tangled guts, the blow sharpened with more fear. She widened her eyes and then narrowed them. “What?”

“She’s after something,” he said with a sigh. “She wanted to prove something to herself and it had something to do with being out here. A lot of people find some sort of awakening -- self-discovery or whatever -- in the woods. Quinn’s looking for hers.”

“What the hell does that mean?!” Rachel threw her hands up, beyond done with all the secrecy and danger and bullshit. “I know we’re supposed to be safe now, but that doesn’t mean you go into the woods alone looking for some sort of spiritual awakening!”

He nodded, wincing. “I didn’t say I thought it was a bright idea. What I’m saying is if Quinn was planning on doing this there’s no way she came out here unprepared. She’d have brought stuff with her for the just in case. I’m trying to be reassuring, Rachel.”

“That’s great. You’ve been taking reassurance lessons with CJ.” She slumped, rubbing at her tired, gritty eyes. “I don’t care about the reasons right now. Okay? I don’t need the reassurance. I need to find her. I just need to see her and make sure she’s alive. After that there’s a few things that will be discussed. With her and I alone and then with everybody in Humanity. I can’t keep doing this. I’m too tired and worried and can’t anymore.”

“I understand,” he said, moving forward again. “You’ve been under a lot of pressure for a long time. You need a break to reset.”

“That’s what this fucking island was supposed to be,” she grumbled, glaring around her. “I’ve hit the limit emotionally.”

“Maybe you need a spiritual hike in the woods.”

“It’s not funny,” she snapped.

“Sorry -- old habit, trying to drain tension.” He shrugged, cleared his throat, and then yelled, “QUINN?”

Rachel’s heart surged again and her stomach twisted up further. Every time he yelled her name like that, that one word was enough to level her. TKO by a name. She never wanted to hear it shouted like that ever again.

Onward they trudged, tripping on roots and the thick underbrush. Around them branches snapped as the trees brushed together surrounding them in rustling sounds. Anything could have been out there, among them. Stalking them.

She wrapped her arms around her stomach, queasy at the thought of raising her voice to call for Quinn. Her impressive belting range had never been used for this before. It wasn’t a good feeling.   
“Quinn!”

The forest answered but the voice she wanted didn’t call back to her.

I’m here, she heard inside her head. Quinn’s tremulous, husky alto, haunting her.

“Quinn!” she tried again, one syllable breaking in the middle. Please, please answer. Please be okay.


	6. Chapter 6

Some habits never change. Habits that had been ingrained in him long ago still remained. Chevy didn’t think that was necessarily a bad thing; some of his habits were good to keep, to maintain. 

He’d been a soldier Before, and he was a soldier still. It had never been something he thought much about. Those warrior habits, drilled into his head by zealous sergeants, had kept him alive. They weren’t things he often thought about, reacting instead as he’d been trained and carrying on from there.

But now, marching through the thick, dark woods on an island in Alaska a particular habit caught his attention.

He remembered those long ruck marches, the weight of his bag and weapon, and how heavy every limb felt. To keep his mind off the pain he recited one thing, one thing to keep him motivated, on point, ready.

It didn’t fit like it used to, not in the newest version of the world. Here he was just another survivor. Every single one of them wore that title. They were all soldiers now.

I am a warrior and a member of a team, he thought with a grimace of a smile. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rachel Berry. Fearsome little Broadway Berry. Sure, he hadn’t thought much of her the first time he met her – but time moved different in an apocalypse. People were more transparent and it didn’t take as long to figure someone out. Rachel had been an unlikely leader of a team and now he was following her orders, too, because as strange as it seemed that tiny woman had something in her. Something he hadn’t seen often, something that made men and women charge headlong into battle without a second thought. There were lots of words to describe it but none that hit it right on the head. There was just something about her.

Even now, frightened, cold, and hurting, she kept up with him. Brown eyes wide, mouth set in a determined frown, she marched into the darkness alongside him without a single complaint. He’d been around more than a few warriors in his service to his country. True warriors, with blood in their mouths and deadly purpose in their eyes – impressive men and women. Hard, cold heroes. He never would have imagined a Broadway singer would fit in with that bunch, but she would. Hell, he’d even say that she could give a few of them a run for their money.

He paused mid-step, head cocked to the side. Rachel froze next to him with a glimmer of hope in the lift of her eyebrows and barely-there smile. It was late, it was dark, and every snap and call from wildlife stopped him in his tracks because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he ignored a noise and it turned out it had been Quinn. But every time he took a second to check and it wasn’t Quinn he had to watch more of the light die out in Rachel.

This time was no different. He shook his head and pressed on forward, hating the way Rachel sighed, how her shoulders slumped. She recovered quickly though, straightening back up, head high, and jaw set. Back on target.

Chevy wiped his cold cheek against his shoulder and cleared his throat of the lump obstructing his voice. “Quinn!”

He paused to listen – to pray – for a response this time.

Nothing.

Rachel called out next, her voice rough and cracking from their continuous yelling. “Quinn?”

Silence.

He forced his legs forward once more and moved his tired arm, muscles quaking with adrenaline and fatigue, gritting his teeth against the sour taste of defeat. The torch-light didn’t reach very far but he couldn’t stop looking. They weren’t done until they found Quinn and brought her back. Brought her home, dead or alive. Rachel’s flashlight blinked on, the small beam of light reaching further and touching trees, boulders, bushes, only to blink off again. 

He chose to ignore the way the light wavered in her shaking hands.

Quinn wasn’t a quitter, that much he knew. It wasn’t in her nature. She’d proven it time and time again in their journey across the ravaged wasteland they used to call home. Never once had she given up and the lengths she would go to… she’d surprised him as much as Rachel. He’d recognized her, of course, when they’d met up with her that fateful day in Ohio. Quinn Fabray, movie star. But she wasn’t spoiled, or soft, or anything he’d thought she’d be. He’d watched her charge into the fray of battle to rescue Rachel. She didn’t look back, she didn’t question herself – she leapt.

There was no way he was going to leave her out in the woods. Because Quinn was a kindred spirit and she would never have left him, or any of them, behind either.

“How long have you known Quinn?” he asked with a glance to his left.

Rachel’s jaw wobbled for a second as she took a deep breath and raked a hand through her long hair. She squinted away from him. “We went to highschool together.”

“I know that part,” he said, shifting the torch to his other hand. “I mean, did you guys keep in touch after?”

They had a bond of some sort. Something powerfully strong, something anchored in history, something that had survived an apocalypse. He’d watched them interact and he knew the strength of their tether immediately. It wasn’t something shared by an old, forgotten friend or schoolmate. It was something else, something deeper.

“I saw her off and on during college. After that we emailed each other occasionally. Why?”

He ducked a low-hanging tree branch and swung the torch. The hair on the back of his neck stood at attention, and cold slithered into his belly. “I, uh, I’m curious. Q’s quiet, keeps to herself, all locked up. I never saw her getting close to anyone until we ran into you. I figure there’s a story there.”

“It’s complicated,” she said, frowning. “It’s still complicated.”

Complicated. He mulled that word over, weighing it against his desire to ask another question. One he knew would not be well received. Curiosity won out over rationality. “Did she tell you what happened to her daughter?”

“What?” Rachel stumbled, but swiftly righted herself.

He winced at the tense expression she aimed his way. “I don’t know either. I know Luz tried to talk to her about it once. Luz had kids, too.”

That didn’t need further explanation. Had kids, past tense.

Rachel stopped, swiped at her mouth, and looked up at the sky. “I didn’t know that. That’s why she’s so good with the kids here, and so focused on them.”

“She had two,” he said. “Tony and Sophia. Sophia was autistic. They were with their dad when…”

“Please, don’t.” She shook her head and turned on the flashlight again.

“She doesn’t talk about that, for obvious reasons. But sometimes, if you catch her in a good mood, Luz will tell stories about them. The good things, you know? Like the last time she was on leave they went to the zoo.” He smiled, imagining Luz’s little girl with a yellow ribbon in her dark hair squealing in excitement over the elephants. “Q doesn’t do that. She doesn’t talk about her daughter at all. I wondered if she talked to you.”

He cupped the side of his mouth with his free hand and called again. Rachel flinched but echoed him soon after.

“She hasn’t said much.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what this trip into the woods has been about. I think she’s trying to make peace.” He scrubbed at the back of his head, frustrated by the tingles and alarm bells telling him they were so close.

“Quinn hasn’t brought it up,” Rachel said, slowly following him. She hugged herself and expelled a shuddering sigh. “I knew she wasn’t ready to tell me what happened. I shouldn’t have – I never should have used Beth like that. It wasn’t right.”

He reached over to rub her shoulder, squeeze gently. “It wasn’t my intention to make you feel bad about it, again. Like I said, I’m just curious.”

“She lost Beth.” She rubbed her palms against her face. “Three times, she lost her. Of course it’s – we’ve all lost someone, but that – Beth has always been a catalyst for Quinn. She feels things so profoundly. She’s always been that way. I don’t know what to do with this new Quinn. It’s like she’s drowning and I can’t reach her.”

Knowing that she knew all of that made what she’d said worse. He bit his tongue to keep that thought to himself. They all made mistakes in the heat of the moment and Quinn was no saint either. The two of them would have to work it out on their own. Once they found Quinn.

“I think we’re getting close,” he told her against his better judgment. Any sort of breadcrumb would help. She needed something to hold onto and he needed to stop being a dick. But the longer they were out there the harder it was to think they’d get a happy ending to the story. He didn’t know what would happen if they found her too late.

“You can’t possibly know that,” she said and checked with the flashlight again.

“My gut says we’re close. I’ve learned to trust it.” He narrowed his eyes in an attempt to see further in the dark. It didn’t help much, but he had the strangest sense of déjà vu. “I think we’re near where we hiked to the other day.”

She scowled at him. “Why did you do that, anyway?”

Now? Now she wants to ask?

“It wasn’t to piss you off,” he said, distracted by an excited energy that reawakened his tired limbs. “She wanted to go do something. I agreed to go with her. Battle Buddy system and all. That bottled energy has to be expended somehow. Hiking’s a pretty safe activity.”

“But…”

He turned to her, holding his free hand up to stop her. “No buts. We came out here because Quinn needed to. I told you, she’s looking for something. It’s important to her. Important in a way that means you don’t argue. Next thing I knew it was getting dark and she hoofed it back double time. We got caught up talking and when she realized how late it was, how far we’d gone, she hurried back.”

“And I bit her head off.”

“You weren’t wrong. We were irresponsible, we both know better than to fuck around in the woods at night. You overreacted, sure, but we set ourselves up for an ass chewing. You know what though? I bet she forgives you. I’ll also bet that you’ll forgive her for being a moody asshole.” He shook his head. Drama in the apocalypse. Days of our zombie hearts. “There’s this thing called communication. You both suck at it.”

She chewed on her lip. “I kind of want to punch you.”

“That’s fair,” he said and offered his shoulder. “I probably earned a couple.”

“I’ll get you back later.”

“Deal.” He took a deep breath and checked the sky, looking for the position of the moon. His hands tingled and a fresh bout of alarm bells rang phantom tones in his ears. “Head that way,” he said pointing off to his left. “Call for her. I’m going to fan the other way. Watch out for the ridgeline; it’s a steep fall.”

She nodded and turned to her mission without another word.

He watched her go, heart practically in his mouth. If Quinn had gone down that bastard hill…

Eyes on the nearest tree he walked forward in a straight line and bellowed at the top of his lungs. “Quinn!”

I will never leave a fallen comrade.

***

The fire went out. She couldn’t stop it or help it – it died slowly, flickering in weak attempts, fighting against the wind. A good fire. Brave. The little fire that almost could.

Cold had been seeping in at a steady pace. Quinn watched the fog form, coating the area in a creamy mist. She shivered and hunched closer to the sputtering fire.

Her eyes didn’t want to stay open and her head didn’t want to stay in its upright position. She caught herself nodding off more than once. The overreaction of jerking upright and forcing her eyes open wider did not help stave off the sudden bout of sleepiness. She squinted down at the fog wondering if it might have some sort of energy sapping qualities and flexed her numb fingers.

“I’m an idiot,” she said, voice scratchy and throat burning. So maybe the shouting hadn’t been the best of ideas. Not only had it sapped her energy it had wrecked her throat. It reminded her of the first couple of days after she’d picked up smoking. Except it didn’t come with the rush of doing something ‘naughty’ and the sweet intoxication of nicotine.

“Damn,” she muttered. “If I wouldn’t kill for a cigarette right now.”

Her eyes closed again, gritty and gummy with the lashes sticking together. She didn’t bother trying to open them again. Sleep lingered nearby, offering in that oh-so-subtle way to take her safely away from reality. Peaceful, deceptive slumber.

The others will come looking for you. She shook her head with a wince and tasted iron on the back of her tongue. They’ll come and get you out of here.

“Tomorrow.” She shifted, searching for an angle that would ease the aches in her body and not make her head hurt more. “I just have to make it to tomorrow.”

That’s a lie and you know it, the other side of her woozy consciousness argued. You’re not getting out of this one.

Back and forth her internal argument raged while she lay there wishing she could shut her own brain up.

Rachel will come. She will. Quinn imagined it – Rachel, charging to the rescue, anger in her eyes but relief in the lines of her body.

Why should she? You’ve been awful. The image shifted. Rachel sitting on the couch in the cabin sipping tea and glaring at the wall.

They know you’re missing now. They’d never leave you like this.

Because you’ve never been left before?

That one stung. Quinn hissed out a breath and forced her eyes open once more. “Rachel’s never left me,” she said, blinking heavily. “She always finds me.”

In a hallway at school. Out back behind the bleachers. In the godforsaken bathroom. After the end of the world.

You knew better than to be out here after sunset. It’s too dangerous for them to come out here.

“Yeah, well, since when have any of us taken the safest option?” She snorted, counting stupid, crazy ultimately selfless things she’d witnessed or done. “Zombies bring out the best in the worst.”

“Quinn!”

She raised her head, neck straining, and squinted at the darkness. That sure sounded like her name.

“I’m here,” she said, croaking the words. After clearing her throat she tried calling out again to the auditory mirage. “I’m here, Rachel.”

Why the hell am I bothering with this? It’s not real.

She licked her lips and smiled. “She’s going to rescue me.”

“Quinn!”

It’s not real.

“I’m here.” Her eyes closed again as fresh dizziness and nausea swamped her. The buzzing in her ears grew louder but she thought she still heard her name. “I’m here.”

The fire died.


	7. Chapter 7

Rachel puffed out a breath and watched it drift away in a lazy plume of steam. Cold. Too damn cold. Because Alaska was cold. Who knew? She hugged herself tighter against the invading chill, fingers digging into her ribs through the plush fabric of her puffy jacket.

I hope Quinn remembered her parka, she thought and then stilled. She hadn’t even thought about it - about checking to see what Quinn might have taken with her. Or what she might have left behind.

If she’d done it on purpose.

“Quinn,” she whispered, blinking back the rising tide of tears.

Not that. Please, please not that.

Desperation grabbed her in a stranglehold. She choked and coughed, leaning into the nearest tree until she sucked in enough to keep from throwing up.

They didn’t have time for this. For her to be uncertain and timid. Afraid. Quinn needed her to be tenacious, borderline crazy even. Something she’d been known and ridiculed for back Before.

Too bad she was having a really hard time finding that inner Berry fire at the moment.

She held onto the tree, worn out and exhausted and barely hanging on to the raggedy edge of her composure.

“Quinn!” She yelled, eyes closed against pain. Sorry, can’t perform tonight, ripped my own throat out. “Quinn!”

“Rachel?”

Her head hit the tree she jerked so hard. The smack didn’t matter nor did the lights flashing in her vision. That was definitely her name. For sure. One-hundred-percent.

She knew that voice, too.

Better than anyone.

It wasn’t the wind or her mind playing tricks on her. Not this time. As weak and thready as it sounded - a shouted whisper - she heard it.

She fucking heard it.

“Quinn! Quinn, say it again. Say something again. I can’t find you!” She shoved away from the tree and strained her ears. Every muscle in her body coiled, ready to leap into action and sprint through the forest to the source of that voice. “Again, Quinn!”

“I’m here!”

Thank GOD for musician’s ears. She whipped around, trusted her near supernatural hearing, and took off. Her flashlight beam bounced all over the place and her pulse pounded in her neck as she tripped over a log and crashed to the ground only to scramble back to her feet and keep running. The sting in her hands and knees could wait. All of it -- everything -- could fucking wait.

Quinn, Quinn, Quinn.

There! A flash of blonde hair in the light. She tore through a bush, scrambled over another log, and gasped Quinn’s name again and again. Heavy tears blurred her vision, clogged her throat, and kept her from screaming to the Heavens. To anyone who would listen.

I found her, I found her. Quinn. She’s alive. She’s alive! That idiot. My idiot. I’m going to kill her. I’m going to…

She couldn’t slow down -- too much momentum, too much adrenaline, too much of all of it. Instead she fell into Quinn at the base of a massive tree. Pin-pricks of feeling lit up her chilled flesh, and she was panting, crying, shivering, and she didn’t care.

Rachel grabbed Quinn in a fierce hug, crushing her against her chest, and spewing pure gibberish to the top of her blonde hair. She held on, hands racing to touch every inch of her she could fumble for, checking for injuries, for breaks.

Bites.

Here, here, whole. She’s whole.

“Oh my God, Quinn.” She tipped backward and cupped Quinn’s cheeks, thumbs rubbing at cold, cold skin. “You’re okay. You’re okay. I can’t -”

“You came,” Quinn said, blinking in the dim light of the flashlight laying beside them. “You’re…”

“You scared me. I’ve never been so -- what did you do?” Rachel sighed and slumped over, bumping their foreheads together. “I thought you -- I don’t even know. Are you hurt? What happened? Talk to me. Please, Q. Please, say anything.”

“Sorry,” Quinn whispered, a sheen of water glazing her big, beautiful eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Rachel’s throat seized once more. A whine snuck out between her teeth. “No, no I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to drive you out -- to this, I didn’t mean for this.”

Quinn shook her head and grasped Rachel’s wrists. “It’s not your fault. I’m an idiot sometimes.”

“You’re my idiot,” Rachel said with a sniffle. Quinn smiled, small and shy, shame and hope in her expression. With a shake of her head and huffed half-sob, half-laugh, Rachel leaned in and kissed her clammy forehead, pulled her closer to try and share some warmth, however minimal. 

“I fucked up.”

“Me too.”

“Can we agree to be fucked up together and not do this again?” Rachel closed her eyes and felt the burn of an endless well of tears, silently praying that Quinn would understand.

Please.

“You’re my kind of fucked up,” Quinn croaked. “I’m done running. I promise, Rachel. No more running of any kind.”

There was more. So much more to say, to mean. Things that needed to be yelled and whispered. Things said with tears and with laughter.

But it could wait. They had time.

And Quinn had just said the most beautiful thing she’d heard yet.

“Me, too. Me, too, I promise. No more running.” Rachel kissed her forehead again, relieved to be able to. Quinn didn’t even twitch in response. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” Quinn touched her chin, trembling fingers hesitant and gentle. “No. I forgot how draining having a hysterical meltdown is. I passed out and then it was dark and too dangerous to try and get back. Too dangerous for you to come looking for me.”

“Nothing will ever stop me from looking for you,” Rachel said and set her jaw. “Nothing. I don’t care how mad I am at you, or you are at me.”

“Did you come alone?”

“Shit, no. Fuck, Chevy’s probably freaking out.” Rachel fumbled at her side and unclipped her walkie. “Chevy? Chevy, I’ve got her. I found her.”

“Jesus Christ, give a man a heart-attack. Point the flashlight south, I’ll find you and bring the others. Is she hurt?”

“No.” She sighed, relief bathing her frazzled nerves in a welcome warmth. “We’re going to have to stay here though. Can you round up the others?”

“Oh, you remembered us?” Luz snarked over the channel. “I don’t need rounding; what am I, a sheep?”

Quinn chuckled weakly. Rachel ran her hand through Quinn’s hair, pulling some tangles loose.

“More of a goat,” Rachel said. “Please hurry.”

“We’ll be right there.”

She dropped the walkie and pulled Quinn into another hug, settling against her, aching and shuddering.

“Rachel?”

“I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll be mad later, but right now all I care about is that you’re okay.”

Quinn shifted until they fit together more comfortably. Snuggled together like they were always meant to be like that. Like it wasn’t new.

Maybe it wasn’t.

“I found you,” Rachel said.

***  
Quinn could not stop crying. At least welling up, anyway. She didn’t think she had any tears left to give. If she did she would have given them to her friends, her family. They crowded around her, asked repeatedly if she was alright.

She knew they were angry with her and right to be, but none of them said a word about it. Not Chevy, or Luz, CJ, or Alex.

Rachel.

Rachel who refused to let go of her at all. Some part of them always in contact as the others bustled around to erect a small camp. She kept an eye on Quinn throughout everything. From fire building to tent set-up. Sat right next to her. Held her hand, touched her hair, her arm; Rachel’s fingers were always on her, always checking.

Quinn was drowning; it felt like her heart banging against her ribs, lungs too full of something.

Something she knew was love.

The most dangerous something in the world.

Zombies a close second.

I love you, she thought, staring in wonder at Rachel’s profile. The angle of her jaw, the pout of her lips, the nose that Rachel had hated so much. Firelight cast wavering shadows on her strong features highlighting the height of her cheekbones and the length of her neck. Highlighting just how sharp and strong Rachel Berry was.

Then she turned and the same light flickered in Rachel’s deep, dark brown eyes.

Quinn almost died. Her heart stuttered, beats smacking into each other, and her breath got caught somewhere between throat and lungs.

I’m so in love with you and I’m an idiot. How did it take me this long to realize?

Still, nobody said anything. Though Quinn did catch Luz smirking and raising an eyebrow at her. There would be plenty of jokes at her expense later. Quinn didn’t care.

How could she when Rachel was looking at her like that? Looking at her with forgiveness and happiness and a spark of burning anger.

I don’t deserve this. I don’t. But GOD, if I’m that lucky I’ll take it and cherish it always. She felt new and scrubbed clean, free for the first time in several dusty, blood-soaked years.

Chevy had to help her stand with Rachel holding on to her other elbow and hissing for him to be careful.

Quinn blushed, hotter than the fire she was sure, as her legs refused to cooperate. They’d long gone numb from the cold and the cramped position of sitting against a tree for hours.

“You know, Hollywood, if you wanted to go camping all you had to do was ask,” Chevy said as the three of them took another agonizingly slow step. “You actors, always gotta be so dramatic. There’s no Oscars out here. Besides Leo already got his for The Revenant. Too soon for a remake.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Quinn said, smiling up at him. “Thanks for coming to the rescue.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. You haven’t survived the night.”

Rachel snorted and clutched harder at Quinn’s elbow. “No one is dying tonight. Or tomorrow.”

“Should I announce that as a royal decree to the rest of the camp?” Chevy grinned.

“I take it back. You utter a single Madame at me tonight and I’ll smother you in your sleep.”

No one cat-called as Quinn collapsed into a pup-tent and Rachel followed after her. She would have been grateful for that if she didn’t think it had less to do with maturity levels and more to do with the gravity of the situation that led them there.

“Rachel.” She licked at her chapped lips and glanced over.

Rachel shook her head and put a finger to her mouth. She zipped up the door and didn’t say a word as she helped Quinn take off her boots.

Quinn squirmed underneath a nest of blankets and tried not to panic as Rachel removed her own boots and crawled in after her.

She expected that Rachel would face her, like always. They’d been sharing space for long enough that she knew Rachel’s sleeping habits as well as her own. Instead, Rachel pressed up against her back, both arms folding around her.

Tiny Rachel Berry, the Big Spoon.

It couldn’t be comfortable with the ground beneath them hard and Rachel’s arm pinned beneath Quinn’s ribs.

Her eyes pricked and she sucked in a harsh breath, flooded with the care in the gesture.

“Tell me why,” Rachel whispered, long after Quinn thought they would sleep without talking.

“I had to.” Quinn rolled her eyes to the top of the tent. Her breath hitched when Rachel squeezed her.

“That’s not enough of an answer.” Rachel’s hand tightened into a fist against Quinn’s bellybutton. “I thought you might have -- I thought you ran out here to end it. Because I…”

Horror and self-loathing smacked her in the diaphragm. She hadn’t paused long enough to think about anything like that, about what the others might think. Lost in her own tragedy she’d failed them even as she went to do something for them.

“No!” she said, voice guttural, wrecked at the thought of Rachel… “No, Rachel.”

“Please, tell me why.”

She heard the tears and wanted to turn over and wipe them away, to banish them forever, but Rachel’s arm was holding on too fiercely and locking her in place.

It dawned on her that she did it so Quinn could talk, to ease the embarrassment.

No judgement here.

No lack of understanding.

You’re safe with me.

Trust me.

“There are ghosts,” she said, wheezing and broken. “I failed as a daughter. A mother. As a friend. I ran and I hid when the outbreak happened. I left them all behind and I keep seeing their faces. Maybe if I’d been stronger -- braver -- things would have been different.”

Rachel cuddled closer, tucking her legs up behind Quinn’s, and cradling her.

She didn’t speak.

Quinn pressed on.

“I needed to -- I had to face them. Apologize, beg for mercy, for peace and forgiveness. I didn’t come out here to die, Rachel; I came out here so I could live. I had to say goodbye.” She choked again, a weak stream of tears meandering down her cheeks and neck. “I know we’ve all lost, but I never said goodbye. My daughter is dead. Beth is gone and I didn’t even try…”

She was too tired, too weak, to do it again. Her chest had already been cracked open; she’d spilled her guts to the forest and had nothing left.

So she let the tears slide, sniffled, and heaved out dry sobs.

“They’d want us to live,” Rachel said around her own sniffles. “You’re not alone. None of us ever will be. They’re here, but we are, too. I’m here and you’re here, and they’d want us to go on, Quinn. We’re going to make it through this. Together.”

“I’m sorry for being so -- I’ve been a dick and I’m sorry, Rachel. Please, please forgive me.”

Rachel set her lips against the back of Quinn’s neck. Not quite a kiss, but a lingering press against her skin -- a bare, ticklish brush. “I forgive you. Will you forgive me? I shouldn’t have said what I did. I can’t believe that I -- I caused you pain on purpose and I feel like a monster for it. You don’t have to, and I will accept that, but if you can?”

Quinn swallowed and swallowed again, her tongue thick and heavy in her mouth. “I forgive you.”

I love you.


	8. Chapter 8

Quinn brewed a cup of tea with shaking fingers as tears dripped and splattered against her hands. They made her neck feel sticky to the point where she wondered if the skin would ever be dry again.

After a lifetime of crying surely her neck would always be covered in a layer of dried salt.

Many a tear had dried on her skin. Tears of joy for getting accepted into college, walking again when she thought she never would, and when her daughter was born and she held her for the first time. Tears of exhaustion after physical therapy or following her first gymnastics class. Tears of anger at Finn for dumping her, again and at herself for being so caught up in a wedding she had to stop.

So many tears. How amazing was it that she could shed blood and see the scar left behind, but tears left no such reminder even when they scalded the surface they fell on. They would be wiped away, wiped clean, and it was as if they never were.

She’d cried and cried and cried for all sorts of things. Over time she learned to numb the sensation, to push down the feelings that brought that burning saline to her eyes. 

She strapped on her armor, marched into battle, and came back with hidden marks. Bled underneath in secret.

It was always safer that way. Better to suffer in silence than to let them see you bleed. To let them see the weakness.

Her armor was gone now, though. She’d left it behind in the woods and walked out with tears in her eyes, her wounds oozing and on display for everyone.

People said that asking for help was a sign of strength not weakness.

Quinn always had to learn the hard way.

Now she had no protection against the storm of emotions clashing together in her chest that felt like a hurricane of massive proportions. Except she knew better now, too, because there were hands reaching for her, to pull her up, wipe her tears, and cover her wounds with tender care.

And she trusted them.

One hand, in particular, held on through it all keeping her safe and promising to warm the cold, beaten remains of her heart.

Rachel.

She was in love with her and that was the most terrifying truth of all.

Dangerous.

Wonderful.

Quinn had no idea what to do about it.

Her first true love had been her child. She’d held affection for lovers and imagined how amazing it would be to be truly in love with them; it never seemed to work out. She pretended it might but it always fell apart and she never knew what she’d done. Somehow she was so broken she couldn’t love them right. They never stayed.

Rachel was different. It felt different. She’d always been different -- been the one -- in a way none of the others had been.

And how the hell was she supposed to say something about it? Declarations of feelings weren’t her strong suit.

She wouldn’t fake it either. Never again. Not with Rachel.

So she brewed tea in the kitchen alone in the middle of the night and cried because it hurt and it was confusing and Rachel needed her to do something.

Rachel woke up screaming the raw, choking, broken kind of screams. She pitched upward in the dark, back in the cabin safe and warm and alive, and screamed.

Quinn heard it still, bouncing around in her aching chest.

When she reached out to soothe and offer comfort as they usually did following a night-terror, Rachel hugged her. She pressed her face to the graveyard of tears on Quinn’s neck and said, “Please.”

Please, do something.

Please, help me.

Please.

Quinn rocked her and held her, stroked her hair, and kissed her face until Rachel quieted and laid back down. Once quiet, she left to make tea with shaking hands and a throat filled with words that she couldn’t find her voice to speak. The tears had come rushing and she felt useless.

Tea! her scattered brain shouted. Make her tea, idiot. Make it better.

She frowned and cocked her head to listen for any sounds from the bedroom. For a sign that the demons that stalked their dreams had come back to try again. She would fight them off best she could. Rachel deserved that; she deserved more.

Quinn had tea, understanding, and her heart to give, all with a prayer that it would be enough.

“Quinn.”

She jumped at the sound, smacking her hips into the counter and spilling tea on her hands. Rachel stood in the doorway entirely too adorable and heart-breakingly small in her oversized sweatshirt and long-johns. She wrapped one arm low around her stomach, hugging herself, and tussled her mussed hair.

“Rachel, I’m making tea,” Quinn said with a squeak. She pouted at the mess she’d made, half the cup spilled on the counter and her hands. “I was making you tea. I’m sorry, I thought -”

“You left.” Rachel ducked her head and leaned over against the doorway. “I woke back up when I realized you weren’t in bed.”

She shifted, red-rimmed eyes shining in the dim candlelight, and scratched the back of her calf with sock-clad toes.

There was something there. Something different. Quinn forgot how to breathe watching Rachel watching her. Maybe it was the candle. All the times they’d seen each other vulnerable it had been in the dark. Now she could see everything, from the tremble in Rachel’s bottom lip to the damp sheen under her eyes.

Vulnerability. Fear.

Need.

Quinn cleared her throat and searched desperately for her words. You’re supposed to be well-read and intelligent! Hello, Yale graduate, where are you? “Rachel.”

Brilliant!

They stared and Quinn bit her bottom lip, unable to do anything else.

Rachel glanced away first. She took a deep breath, scratched at the back of her head, and then drew her hair over one shoulder.

Quinn tensed, waiting for it.

“What are we doing, Quinn?” Rachel asked in a thready whisper. Her chin wobbled but she straightened back up and pinned Quinn in place with a loaded, desperate look. “I thought I knew. I thought we were -- but I’m confused, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Please, tell me.”

Tell me.

Tell. Me.

Quinn swayed and planted a palm down on the counter to stabilize. Her head swam, jaw working over words.

Tell her?

Show her.

Be brave.

To hell with it. She crossed the distance between them in two quick strides. Rachel’s breathing hitched as she dropped her arm and straightened. Quinn cupped her jaw, raised it, and dipped her head, eyes closing.

It was a simple kiss. Closed mouth. Not too much, not too fast. She wanted Rachel to have every opportunity to object or back away. Her hands shook with fear, with longing, and with the incredible sensation of finally.

She pulled back with her nose brushing Rachel’s soft skin. The slightest of space between them felt too far, but she had to know. Had to see. Even if this ended in rejection -- she had to. 

“Does that --”

Rachel looped her arms around Quinn’s neck and cut her off, kissing back harder while pulling them closer together.

Quinn flailed, her brain gone haywire, eyes rolling back. She whimpered and dropped her hands to Rachel’s hips, wrapping her arms around her and holding her in place.

Her heart pounded in her ears almost drowning out the small sounds breaking the stillness of the cabin. Rachel’s breath came out in a hard sigh as it rushed past Quinn’s cheek. They hardly separated, changing angles, and grasping harder. Quinn slipped a hand under Rachel’s sweatshirt to find hot skin at the small of her back. Rachel gripped a handful of Quinn’s hair as the softest of sounds escaped with a tilt of her head.

Quinn was flying. Falling.

Crying.

Alive.

Rachel left a last, lingering, gentle kiss to the corner of Quinn’s lips and dropped onto her heels. “Quinn.”

“I love you,” Quinn said, opening her eyes to see Rachel’s were wet as well. So close to her own, big and full and staring at her as though she couldn’t believe it either. She set her forehead against Rachel’s, bumped their noses together. “I’m in love with you.”

Teary eyed and so beautiful it hurt, Rachel surrounded her in the warmest of embraces. Like she was special and precious.

“I’m in love with you, too,” she said.

Quinn sagged into her, vision swimming. She adjusted Rachel in her arms, delighted in the way Rachel raised her chin to accept another kiss. Quinn tried her damndest to pour every bit of herself into it, wanting to show her how she loved her. She hoped Rachel could feel it the same way she could when Rachel reciprocated, heard it in another sigh, and tasted it against a soft mouth.

Rachel pulled away again, eyes flickering back and forth across Quinn’s features. She smiled, small and shy, and twined her fingers with Quinn’s. “Get the candle.”

In awe of all of it, Quinn followed as Rachel tugged at her towing her down the short hallway in a daze. The candle shook in her hand making their shadows dance to a feverish beat on the walls.

She licked at her lips, nerves rushing back and twisting her stomach up, as Rachel drew to a stop beside the bed. Their bed.

Theirs.

Rachel kept eye contact still wearing that smile and crossed her arms in front of her, hands grabbing the hem of her sweatshirt.

Quinn forgot how to breathe.

Her heart stopped.

Rachel pulled the faded red sweatshirt off, further tousling her hair. Dark eyes gleamed as she took the candle from Quinn’s sweaty hand and set it on the nightstand. Pouty lips twitched in the barest of smirks. She sat on the bed, twisted a hand in Quinn’s shirt, and pulled.

Quinn fell.

***

Rachel woke to a head of blonde hair resting on her chest. The pre-dawn light coming through the windows draped the bedroom in a grey-blue light that was just enough for her to be able to appreciate the sight before her. She smiled to herself, tired and a little sore, but happy.

Actually happy. No thoughts of what ifs and no worries yet. Nothing but comfort and warmth and safety in a nest of blankets with Quinn sleeping peacefully against her.

In love.

She smiled wider and almost laughed at the thought and the joyous feeling bubbling up her throat. A film of tears blurred her vision, obstructing her view. She blinked them away and covered her mouth while her other hand drifted along Quinn’s back, fingers tracing lines of scars. She sifted through Quinn’s messy hair and gently pulled out tangles.

Peace, she thought and closed her eyes. Peace.

Quinn mumbled and squirmed, muscles shifting and skin sliding as she huffed and tilted her head up without moving from her pillow on Rachel’s breast. Hazel eyes blinked slowly, heavy with sleep and contentment. She smiled, even blushed a bit, before nuzzling against Rachel’s chest. “Hi.”

Rachel chuckled and stretched as best she could with the limp weight laying on her. “Hi.”

“Do we have to get up?”

She peered at the nearby window. “Not for awhile.”

Never? Is never an option? When’s the last time I slept in?

Tension snapped into Quinn’s muscles and she rolled to the side ignoring Rachel’s groaned protest. She rubbed at her eyes and Rachel almost melted into a puddle at the gesture.

“Do we need to talk about…?” Quinn quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t move her hand from its position resting just under Rachel’s belly button.

“I love you,” Rachel said. She rolled onto her side so they were face to face and tucked both hands under her cheek.

Quinn smiled, honest to God really smiled. “I love you.”

“So, no, I don’t think we need to talk about last night. Unless you want to?”

Quinn shook her head, leaned in, and dotted a kiss to the end of Rachel’s nose, her cheek, and both eyelids. “No. My only regret is it took me so long to say anything.”

“I don’t care how long it took; I would have waited if you asked.” Rachel hummed and chased Quinn’s lips in a long good-morning kiss. It was a much better way to start her mornings than she had previously. No gunfire, no shouting, no dying, just Quinn’s gentle mouth and sweetly bashful pillow talk. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not giving up. For being you. For loving me,” she said, uncurling one fist to tuck blonde locks behind Quinn’s ear. “For being the one to help me through this. For being the light at the end of the tunnel.”

Quinn’s cheeks darkened. “I - I’m not very good with being romantic. But you don’t have to thank me for… I would still be lost if I hadn’t found you.”

“Saved me,” Rachel corrected. “With a shovel.”

“We saved each other,” Quinn said. She reached out and scooted closer, dragging calloused fingertips down Rachel’s arm and waist to her hip. “Sometimes I can’t believe this is real.”

“It’s real.” She sighed as Quinn repeated the lazy path making the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stand to attention. “We’re really here. We’re alive, and safe, and here.”

“What do we do now?” Quinn asked huskily. “What -- Things are wide-open. You -- this -- where do we go now?”

“We live,” Rachel said, catching Quinn’s hand and kissing her fingers. A thrill zapped through her at her own action, at the fact that it was allowed. Here -- on the island, at the end of the world, in their bed, in their home -- they could live. “You and me together -- we stop surviving, we heal together, and we live.”

Quinn smiled. “I’m having deja vu.”

“You’re ruining the moment.” Rachel said and shook her head. “I was enjoying it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Quinn said with a roll of her eyes. “Did my attempts at serious, adult conversation bother you?”

“No. You know I’m always here for those. Here for you.” She cracked a grin, an honest-to-God, cheek-to-cheek grin. One that had been gone for too long and felt so great to have stretching her face again. She tugged at the blanket covering Quinn’s chest, inching it down with tiny, intent tugs. “However I’m thinking that maybe we could table that for a bit longer? Since we don’t have to get up yet?”

“Your wish is my command, Your Majesty.” Quinn grinned and shifted up onto her arms, slipping easily across Rachel.

Rachel groaned at the nickname as their lips connected. “Not you, too. Can’t you just say ‘as you wish’ instead?”

“Sure, absolutely. Or we could stop talking?”

“Excellent.” Rachel grunted and rolled them over, grinning down at Quinn in triumph. There was something a little more thrilling in getting to be in charge of Quinn Fabray, and that she went along so easily. 

They might have a ways to go as far as getting settled, getting better, and finding the new normal, but she felt here in their room, in their little cabin at the end of the world, they’d finally found a place to start.


End file.
